Interhouse Relations
by JaceDLark
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is evil. She randomly pairs up Harry's 6th year transfigurations class and forces them to work together. Romance was just an unintended side-effect. SLASH, FEMSLASH and HET. Many pairings.
1. McGonagall's Assignment

Hey. So I totally went against what I'd decided weeks ago. I started a new story instead of finishing my others. Oops. Hope you like the result of my change of mind. :-) Feel free to leave a review if you like it.

**DISCLAIMER** - I do not own Harry Potter and associated thingys. I wish I did because then I would be super rich and I could quit my day job.

**WARNINGS** - SLASH - Don't like it, don't read it, don't flame it. Seriously I have no idea why people bother in the first place. All I'll do is delete it. There will also be a bit of FEMSLASH and *gasp* some HET. Shocking I know.

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><p><strong>Interhouse Relations<strong>

_Chapter One - McGonagall's Assignment_

Minerva McGonagall's face showed no emotion as she surveyed her sixth year transfiguration class, which cleverly hid her vast amusement with the situation. Wishing she could chuckle, she instead heaved a well-practiced sigh. "As I already explained, the headmaster expressed a strong desire for an improvement with interhouse relations, especially with the impending war."

There was a nervous flutter which swept through the room due to McGonagall's vague reference to Lord Voldemort. Many of the students of Hogwarts had suffered in some way because of the evil git. McGonagall continued her lecture regardless. "Nothing any of you can say will persuade me to change the nature or design of your assignment. You WILL work in pairs, and yes, they WILL be with someone from another house." Her tone clearly brooked no disagreement. Predictably, there was none.

"Now," Minerva announced as she peered over her spectacles, "if it has not already come to your attention, this class can be split into two equal halves. One half Gryffindor, one half everybody else." She allowed a small smile of pride to creep onto her lips at the large number of students from her own house before she noticed Ronald Weasley's eyes darting around the room, no doubt counting whether her calculations were right. Once again, she suppressed a sigh. Of course she was correct. She'd moved Luna Lovegood from fifth year transfigurations into the sixth year class expressly for this purpose. "Gryffindors, make your way to the front of the room," she firmly directed. Her hand gestured to the space in front of her orderly desk. The Gryffindor students sullenly obeyed.

The transfiguration professor strode over to her desk and extracted a small red tartan bag. She ostentatiously (for her) jingled the bag. "In this pouch are seven tokens. Each has the name of a Gryffindor on it. The one you select will be your partner for this task." The Hufflepuffs and the sole Ravenclaw breathed a sigh of relief when they discovered that they would not be paired with a Slytherin. The Slytherins however were looking particularly murderous. Well more murderous than usual at any rate. McGonagall continued her monologue. "Remember, this assignment will count for sixty percent of this year's grade. If you achieve anything less than an Acceptable, you will be unable to return next year for your transfiguration NEWT. You have been warned."

Hermione gasped as the aged professor strode calmly to what she called the_ Slytherin Corner_. Ron's term for the group was much more colourful. Blaise Zabini tentatively placed his hand into the bag. He pulled out a disc the size of a sickle, red in colour with the name _Seamus Finnegan _embossed in gold under a picture of the said boy's face. The image grinned cheekily and winked at the stunned Slytherin.

The second to extract a token was Millicent Bulstrode. Her ugly face frowned as she stared at Neville's name on the coin in front of her. It was harder to tell who was angrier, Hermione or Pansy when they were chosen as a pair. This left one Slytherin, none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry cringed as a pale, well-manicured hand entered the tartan purse. He had no doubt that the bane of his existence would somehow pull his name out. In the end it was Ron who would pair with the ferret. Harry was feeling too happy that it wasn't him to feel too poorly for his best friend.

The last three pairs were Harry and Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas with Luna Lovegood and Lavender Brown with Terry Boot. Apparently the other Ravenclaws had no interest in transfiguration. Or it could be that it was scheduled at the same time as muggle studies and ancient runes. Harry assumed that the majority of them were at the latter because muggle studies didn't sound very intellectually stimulating for the knowledge thirsty Ravenclaws. Then again, it would be interesting for those that were raised in the wizarding world from birth.

At Professor McGonagall's request, the class reorganised themselves so that they were all sitting next to their project partners. "Now remember that each pair will be researching an advanced transfiguration that will be different to everyone else's, so there cannot be any chance of cheating." There was a groan from some of the students which prompted both McGonagall and Hermione to glare at the offenders, Ron in particular. "Gryffindor's return to the front of the class," McGonagall commanded imperiously. She removed another tartan bag from her desk (this time it was blue) which contained the spell each group would be working with. With a carefully hidden smirk, McGonagall readied herself for her favourite time of year. The sixth year task had a tendency to create some of the most humorous situations ever. If anyone really knew how evil and sadistic the transfiguration professor truly was, they would be surprised that she wasn't in Slytherin.

With each pair now in possession of their spell, it was their job to discover exactly what the spell was used for and practice the spell so that it would become second nature. Then they were to teach the spell over two lessons to the other students in the class. Harry had already decided that the latter part of the task would be simple for him after his stint of leading the DA. In fact, he had discovered that he quite enjoyed teaching and was considering a career in that rather than his previous idea of becoming an auror. Ron recently divulged to him that he was thinking about becoming a professional quidditch player. Their continuous fights with Voldemort had definitely dulled their desire to catch dark wizards.

Of all the subjects, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts appealed to him the most and really, as the wizarding world's chosen one, what else could he really become? Divination professor? The thought almost made him laugh out loud. He had a brief flash of him predicting the deaths of Slytherin third years and whilst that would be great fun, he doubted that he'd be able to last a year before wanting to gouge his eyes out with his wand.

Now all he had to do was discover what on earth the noversia spell does.


	2. Noversia and Nausea

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Two - Noversia and Nausea_

Harry wandered into the library during his free period as both he and Justin had planned earlier. In all honesty, Harry had little to do with the Hufflepuff since the Chamber of Secrets debacle in their second year. It wouldn't surprise him if he was still petrified (not literally) by the sight of Harry. He found the brunet Hufflepuff already engrossed in a transfiguration textbook in the corner of the library near the restricted section.

"Hi Harry," Justin cheerfully bubbled when he noticed the other wizard's presence. "I haven't had any luck yet but maybe we will soon!"

Harry was reminded why Hufflepuffs really annoyed him. They always seemed so uppity, it was enough to make him sick.

"I've already checked these ones," Justin flung an arm toward a mountainous pile of books beside him, "but there's bound to something here. I mean, McGonagall wouldn't have set a task without knowing that there were resources available in the library to work it out, would she?"

Blinking stupidly, Harry tried to keep up with the brunet boy's rambling speech without much success. All he managed was a weak, "Er," before he was forced into a chair and a transfiguration book was thrust into his hands.

After nearly an hour of fruitless searching, Harry chucked his latest book away in disgust. "This is really stupid. I can't find any mention of this noversia spell anywhere," he stated in exasperation.

Justin nodded his head in agreement but instead of looking infuriated like Harry, he was still smiling. How the hell could the boy be smiling after searching for what seemed like forever with nothing to show for it? At least the Hufflepuff had the foresight to create a list of titles they had searched on a piece of parchment so they never checked the same book twice. It was a rather lengthy list.

The two were interrupted from their inner musings by the sounds of a loud argument. Harry recognised the sound of Ron immediately and could tell Malfoy's voice just as easily. It seemed the pair were trying to work on their transfiguration assignment too. Clearly it was not going well.

"Well if you weren't a complete dunderhead, Weasel, you'd know that our spell cannot be in our textbook. The old bat would never choose a spell that could be found there. She wants us to work for our grade so put that bloody book away." No stranger to these arguments, Harry rolled his eyes in Justin's direction who successfully managed to muffle his responding giggle.

Ron's voice echoed back even louder than Malfoy's. "Well how do you know that for sure? Maybe it is right under our very noses and you're too sure of yourself to even check. It wouldn't surprise me if she did exactly that so that someone could search the library in vain."

Harry privately agreed with Malfoy although he would agree with Ron if his friend asked.

The argument continued for a little while before the tell-tale sounds of spells caused Harry to finally intervene, Justin following along by his side. As Ron and Malfoy came into view, Harry noticed Madam Pince stalking toward the pair with fury etched on her pointy face.

Harry stopped in his tracks, knowing that if he stepped in now, he would likely suffer the same consequences that the other two were likely to garner. Ron had cast the tickling charm at Malfoy who successfully ducked below it. Harry felt a swell of pride as he noticed that Ron was considerably better at duelling since his time in the DA. Well, he did until his best friend deflected a spell that Malfoy had sent his way with a well-cast protego which sped toward Harry, connecting with his chest.

Immediately, Harry began to continuously vomit. Covering his mouth did nothing to stem the flow, in fact, all it did was cause the spew to spurt all over the place with a large portion covering poor Justin as he tried to help.

"ALL RIGHT," screeched Madam Pince who was now on the scene. She cast the counter-curse on Harry who mercifully sank to the ground as Justin began vanishing the vomit from the pair of them. After almost fifteen minutes of lecturing, Pince informed the pair of wizards that they would be serving a week's worth of detentions with Filch for behaving like hooligans in her precious library and that they were banned from the place of learning for the rest of the year.

"But, but what about our assignments?" asked Malfoy in horror.

"Too bad," snarked the librarian. "You should have thought about that before you treated this place as your own personal duelling room." She would hear nothing more from the pair as she approached the other two on the floor. Her wand reappeared and she cast a nice charm which left Harry's mouth tasting minty fresh. She also cast a few other charms leaving the library and the boys smelling clean with just a hint of lavender. Harry had never liked the woman before but now felt she was his saviour. He had also seen proof with his own eyes that the lady was indeed a witch and not a squib as most of the school privately believed.

"Thank you so much, Madam Pince," thanked Justin with a little blush.

"Yes, thanks. I thought I was never going to stop vomiting," admitted Harry.

She graced the boys with a smile that changed the whole structure of her face into something that could be considered pretty. "In all likelihood, you would have never stopped vomiting. My friend Elvira (she attended Beauxbatons) was hit with the curse when she was hiding from the potions master and spent over two hours heaving before she was found, counter-cursed and given detention. I did not want you to suffer for that long."

Harry smiled back. "Thanks once more, Madam Pince."

"Anytime, Mister Potter."

Harry grabbed Justin's hand and dragged him toward the entrance. When Ron tried to call to him, Harry hissed, "Now is not the time. I really have nothing to say to you at the moment. Goodbye," without even looking at him. Justin glanced at Ron who looked quite upset with himself before he summoned the piece of parchment from the table as Harry led him from the room. Apparently they were no longer studying today.


	3. Ron's Inner Eye

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Three - Ron's Inner Eye_

Ron Weasley was angry. Actually he was far beyond angry. Saying Ron was angry would be like calling Fluffy a little puppy. Why? Two words - Draco Malfoy. Not only had the git refused to see the sense of checking their transfiguration textbook first, they'd ended up both verbally and magically sparring. Which unfortunately caused Harry to get hit with Malfoy's vomiting spell and he felt terrible about it. It had been a long time since Harry had been that angry with him. Okay, so maybe it was only last week when Ron accidentally barbequed his potions homework. Well, it shouldn't have been that close to the Gryffindor common room fireplace anyway. Singed homework aside, the real reason Ron was so irate was because he was angry at himself. Surprised? Normally he'd just blame Malfoy but not this time.

The Malfoys and Weasleys have never gotten along. Not since his great-great-grandmother Margarita had an affair with Aleczander Malfoy over a century ago. For five whole years, Ron had no problem continuing this trend. Draco Malfoy was (and still is) a contemptible spoiled brat but earlier this year Ron had started to find the blonde Slytherin's antics to be somewhat amusing. Sure he was always snarky and tried to hex Ron at every available opportunity but Ron was a Weasley and Weasleys love to fight and bicker. He had secretly been enjoying their squabbles much more than he really should have.

With a grave sigh, Ron tuned back in to what Professor Trelawney was going on about. "Never doubt your inner eye, my dears," her misty voice wafted around the over-incensed room. "If your inner eye wants you to peer beyond the veils of the mundane, let it roam free. Free." It seemed she was once again working herself into a bit of a state. Ron wished he could roam free. Why had he changed his mind and re-joined this stupid class when Harry had the good sense to quit after their OWLs? Oh, that's right. He wanted an easy class to make his grades at least attempt to look reasonable.

Trelawney's words floated back into his brain, causing something that had never happened before to occur. Something Professor Trelawney had said actually made sense! Maybe not in the way she intended it but nonetheless it was a start. Who knows, maybe she'd make a true prediction. She could be on a roll.

_"If your inner eye wants to peer beyond the veils of the mundane, let it roam free." _Well, nothing was more mundane than Professor Binns' class (which he had next) and perhaps instead of doodling or sleeping he could use his inner eye. Ron couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Unfortunately, it caused the Divination professor to turn her overlarge eyes on him.

"And what do you find so amusing about accessing your inner eye?" The mystical tone of her voice was laced with annoyance.

Ron grimaced a little. "Er, nothing Professor Trelawney. Accessing your inner eye is very, um, important."

"Yes, it is," agreed the Professor before she launched off on a tirade about the importance of the inner eye. Thankfully, the bell spared them after a couple of minutes and Ron dashed down the ladder as fast as he could. He took a couple of secret passages and soon arrived at his dormitory.

Ron practically threw himself into his trunk as he searched for one of his birthday presents from the twins - joke merchandise. With a cry of victory, he pulled it out of the trunk, jammed it into a pocket and ran straight to the History of Magic classroom. He made it there just in time so he was forced to sit in the front row. An unenviable position but at least he couldn't see Hermione from his vantage point and more importantly, she couldn't see his face.

When Professor Binns had launched into his usual blur of statistics and dates, Ron pulled the little package from his pocket. The cover had a picture of a beach on it with the words _Patented Daydream Charm_ printed on top. Under the title was a handwritten note from Fred or George. _For when you really piss off Hermione and she starts ranting at you._ How nice of them to be that specific. Still, the charm would be a nice break. Yes, it was time to let his inner eye roam free.

"Alferavious Exonium," muttered Ron as he discreetly tapped the package with his wand. Instantly, he felt as if he was being sucked into the picture. The colours of the box bled into reality and before he knew it, he was lounging on a deck chair by the beach. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore immediately soothed his psyche and for the first time in weeks he felt truly relaxed. He closed his eyes and let the sun warm him.

About ten blissful minutes into his half hour escape, a drawling voice intruded on his daydream. "Well, Weasel. Doing nothing again, just like your good for nothing parents."

Normally, Ron would have shot to his feet and turned red with rage but he was far too warm and comfy on the chair to get worked up. He lazily replied, "Soon your father will be doing nothing too, when he gets sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater." He opened his eyes to see Malfoy standing over him next to his right arm. The sun glinted off the Slytherin's hair making it shine. He looked like an ethereal being and for the first time in Ron's life, he noticed that Malfoy was really pretty.

When he had finished admiring Malfoy's looks, he noticed that the boy was still ranting at him. He seemed to be pretty pissed that he was being ignored.

Ron rolled his eyes (which caused him to look directly into the sun - ow) and sighed. "Just sit down, Malfoy. It's too hot to work yourself into a snit."

The blonde's mouth opened in shock but he gracefully perched on the edge of the chair. He took great care to make sure that his robes didn't touch Ron's.

"Why are you here anyway?" questioned Ron. "I mean, this is my daydream. Guaranteed relaxation, or so the fine print claimed."

Malfoy sneered at him. "How should I know, Weasley? It's your daydream after all."

Ron had almost forgotten that this place wasn't real. He could say anything he liked to Malfoy and the real boy would never know it. He related a few extremely nasty comments (which received some rather unpleasant retorts in return - perhaps that wasn't the most well-planned idea) before Ron fell silent. As fun as it was to argue with the blonde it wasn't really relaxing. Here was Malfoy (well, sort of) in a place where he could do anything and get away with it. Why was he wasting this time arguing with him, which is something they do all the time? What a waste. There had to be something else he could do. The sun still caused the boy's hair to glow and it kept distracting Ron from his thoughts.

"You know, Malfoy, you look really good." Ron wondered why he blurted that.

Malfoy bristled. "I look much better than really good. I'm amazing, outstanding, the convalescence of all the most beautiful..." The sentence was cut off as Ron grabbed the teen and started kissing him. It was hard and rough. Malfoy pushed on Ron's broad chest, trying to force him off. He fisted his shirt and for a brief moment, Ron thought he was going to throw him off the chair. Instead, the Malfoy heir pulled him forward and the space that had been between the pair became non-existent. Before long their tongues began fighting for dominance.

Ron's last coherent thought was that he'd have to buy the twins something awesome for Christmas because this daydream charm was bloody fantastic.


	4. Autonomously

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Four - Autonomously_

Draco Malfoy was smirking from his usual seat in the great hall during breakfast. His lackeys were on either side of Pansy Parkinson, looking at him in surprise.

"What has you in such a good mood this morning, Drakey?" asked the prissy Slytherin as she noticed him glancing toward the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Piss-Her-Off and his offsiders.

"Don't call me that," he admonished without his usual venom. His tone confirmed Pansy's suspicions that something had indeed cheered the usually surly boy. He elaborated, "I ran into the Weasel on the way here. The stupid lump just looked at me weirdly, even when I managed to insult Potter, his mudblood, his parentage and even his entire ancestry. When I was done, he just ran away. It was fantastic! Something I said must have really upset him and I'd bet my fourth favourite broom that he was on his way to cry in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as fast as his ungainly legs could carry him."

Pansy let a small smile escape as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly like the stupid beasts they were. The smile slipped from her mouth as she remembered she was to meet the mudblood after breakfast to discuss their spell, secretious. Draco noticed her mood change and silently inquired (with a raised eyebrow) as to what was bothering her. With a sigh she related the meeting she was about to endure. The whole castle already knew the pair had never seen eye to eye (unless wands were pointed, in which case not looking would be almost suicidal) since their first year. She received an empathetic frown from her friend and knew that he understood exactly how much this partnership would rile her up.

With a gentle sigh, Pansy finished up the remainder of her buttered toast and gracefully rose from her perch. She confidently strode toward the Gryffindor table but was temporarily distracted by Lavender Brown. There were many rumours about exactly how many boyfriends the girl had been through (and the term boyfriend was probably being kind to the boys she treated as toys) but it seemed the girl had a new target in mind. Not many had noticed but whenever Lavender wanted to attract _that_ particular kind of attention, she always wore the same top. It was a shockingly pink, frilly, halter-neck which pushed her already large breasts up that little bit more. Just the sight of it managed to repulse Pansy and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Lavender would never wear it for her. Well, maybe it did (a little) but Pansy preferred her potential love interests to be, well, interesting.

Pansy walked past the slut who was conversing with Boot (whose eyes hadn't yet left the book he was reading) and up to the bookish mudblood. "Granger," she stated apathetically.

"Parkinson," came the measured reply. There was a small silence between the two as Ron proceeded to try to stuff five heaped spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth at once. Both girls blanched and Hermione scalded him for his atrocious table manners. Pansy silently agreed, not that she would ever tell anyone without the aid of veritaserum.

"A word," stated Pansy forcefully to the frizzy haired witch.

"Fuck off," answered Ron disdainfully since he had plenty of time to swallow his overlarge mouthful as Hermione ranted at him earlier.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "That's two words you floundering lummox. I thought that you might have grasped the concept of counting to three but perhaps it's too difficult for your puny mind to comprehend."

Ron flushed with either anger or embarrassment (perhaps both) and added, "Shut up, bitch."

The Slytherin just flicked her hair a little. "Pity. I hoped that insulting your intelligence would get you to run away like you did earlier with Draco."

The flush deepened but Hermione expertly cut Ron off before he could start cursing even louder and probably attract himself a detention. All of her previous ideas of somehow working with Parkinson had flown out of the window faster than a Firebolt in a Wronski Feint. "That word you were looking for Parkinson is AUTONOMOUSLY. That means..."

"I know exactly what it means, mudblood." Pansy cut off the Gryffindor, her voice colder than ice. "It means I will have the spell learnt and perfected by next weekend and you'll be begging me to share it with you."

Hermione angrily rose to her feet. "Listen to me, you pug-faced skrewt. It will be you begging ME for the solution to this assignment. Just try not to cry when you end up with nothing next weekend. If you will excuse me, I'm off..."

"To the library," finished Harry and Ron in unison, having heard that particular phrase far too much over the years.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friends, glared at Pansy and stalked off to the library, muttering under her breath as she left.

Following her lead, Pansy turned on her heel and marched out of the great hall. Classes be damned, she was going to show the mudblood up if it was the last thing she ever did! Her destination however, was much further away than the library. Why on Earth should she spend hours there when the information could be given directly to her? She wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. Last year when she was a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, she had found the room of requirement to be a fascinating place. She had been sneaking up to the room whenever she needed to work on her magic ever since. If it was good enough for Potter and his posse, it was good enough for her. She had never told a soul about it though, not even Draco.

Within moments Pansy was pacing in front of the blank stretch of wall thinking about how she needed help with learning the secretious spell. She once again mentally thanked that old dingbat (Albus Dumbledore) for his handy phrase _help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it_. She asked for it three times and once again the door materialised in front of her.

The room appeared as the Slytherin common room but instead of the many plotting students that could usually be found within it, it was perfectly silent. Just the way she liked it. After settling in her favourite chair next to the fire (which was Draco's in the real common room) she plucked the first book from the small pile on the table directly next to her chair. The green tome was titled _Everything you need to know about the secretious spell and everything you don't._ With a self-satisfied smirk, Pansy began to read knowing that the mudblood was probably still poking uselessly around the library. Nothing was better than being a Slytherin.


	5. Not So Secretious

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Five - Not So Secret-ious_

It was official. Hermione Granger was going to show up that useless tart if it was the last thing she ever did. As with every other crisis she'd ever faced before, she found herself in the library. It had never failed her. Okay so it had. Twice. The first exception was the elusive Nicolas Flamel. It still galled her that instead of in a book, they found him on a chocolate frog card of all things. The second time was trying to find a viable way to breathe underwater for an hour. Still, Hermione was certain that she would have found both of those things in the library if she'd been afforded a little more time.

Hermione plucked five heavy transfigurations books from the nearby shelves and settled down at a (her) library table. For some reason, no one else ever seemed to sit there except the bookish Gryffindor and it had absolutely nothing to do with a well-placed curse that may have come from her wand some years earlier.

After assessing the covers of the tomes, she selected the blue one (her favourite colour) called _Intermediate Transfigurations_ by Valerie Dartford and selected it from the haphazard pile. As she was still feeling angry at the trollop, she tugged it with so much force that it flew into the air and fell open with a heavy thump onto the table. She embarrassedly glanced around the room for a scowling Madam Pince but luckily the witch was nowhere to be seen. If she had been caught throwing books (no matter how accidentally) she'd find herself banned from the library like Ronald had been. The mere thought caused her to shudder. How would she be able to study for her NEWTs effectively if she couldn't get into the library? It was a horrifying thought.

With a sigh of relief that she was still allowed in her favourite room of the castle, Hermione turned the book the right way up and was about to flip to the index when something caught her eye. The word secretious was scrawled at the top of the page. She was immensely pleased that she'd found the spell already but couldn't help feeling let down that it had been ludicrously effortless to find. Hermione shook her head, clearing it of errant thoughts and began to read the entry.

_The secretious spell was discovered by Balthazar "Buttons" Wright (1715-1735) completely by accident. The young wizard was infamous for his brazen theft of over a thousand galleons from the private quarters of Lady Gertrude Steele the Third. When he was working as a mere stable hand, Wright had been repeatedly breaking in, pilfering and transfiguring the golden pieces into small black buttons. He would then retreat to his home and transfigure them back to their original state. It was reported that Wright had been officially stopped and searched eleven times. The aurors never found any gold on him, just a few black buttons thus earning him his namesake. The aurors searched for the thief for over a year but despite every precaution they took, Wright was still able to thieve from Lady Steele right from under their very noses. He did eventually meet his match._

_Lady Steele cleverly placed a permanent sticking charm on one of her galleons along with a tracer spell. Wright was arrested still trying to remove the galleon from his fingers. When the aurors stormed his house he ran to his chest of galleons and instead of turning them back into buttons, he panicked and cast the first thing that entered his head, secretious. The galleons transfigured not into buttons but into small golden spheres. In his haste he forgot about the galleon that was stuck to his hand. It was enough to convict him and was incarcerated for his crimes._

_Three years later, it was discovered by Angelica Mableton (one of the aurors who had heard the original spell) that any inanimate object could become one of these balls. Almost a century later a counter curse was discovered by Raymond Quested. Quested also renamed the balls as gobstones._

Hermione stopped reading in shock. Her spell made gobstones? Gobstones? All of her illusions of an interesting spell were shattered. Professor McGonagall had set her a transfiguration spell that made stupid little balls? Appalled barely covered how she felt. She scanned the rest of the page but found little of interest.

Placing the books carefully back onto the shelves, Hermione was brought back to attention by the bell. Her free period was over and she didn't have her bag with her. She ran to her dorm room to collect it while ranting, "Stupid Parkinson, stupid gobstones!" over and over the whole way there.

Hermione made it to potions only three minutes late. Of course Professor Snape took great delight in deducting twenty points for her tardiness. She sat next to Harry without complaint (knowing that arguing would only make it worse) and began to diligently brew the potion from the board. About halfway through the lesson, Pansy Parkinson flounced into the room. Professor Snape just looked at her and swooped off toward Boot's cauldron. Just seeing her caused Hermione's blood to boil.

As if Hermione's murderous thoughts could be heard, Pansy stopped her whispered conversation with Malfoy and looked her way. The Slytherin smirked at her. Since there was no real reason for the bitch to be sneering at her, she was certain the broad was basically telling her that she'd already worked out the spell.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the girl for a moment before she realised something. She too had worked out the spell and in a very un-Hermione like fashion, she smirked right back at the brunette. Pansy's face became an unreadable mask for a moment before a small frown appeared on her brow. The pair stared at each other for a few more moments before Professor Snape's disdainful voice interrupted, "If you are both finished undressing each other with your eyes, continue working on the Alverium Potion before I choose to test it on you."

The Gryffindor's eyes moved immediately to her cauldron but the professor's comment lingered in her mind. Pansy Parkinson may have the personality of a dead cockroach but she was rather attractive. Many times Hermione had secretly wished her hair was as luxuriously smooth as Parkinson's. The raven black colour of it was also beautiful. If her earlier smirk was something to go by, the girl was also blessed with a sharp mind. If she wasn't so much of a stuck up princess, Hermione might have considered her to have potential.

At the conclusion of the lesson, the girls crossed paths once more as they took their potions to Professor Snape's desk. Nothing was said between them but Parkinson's potion ended up all over Hermione. It momentarily stung all over her head, where the majority of it had landed and within moments the potion was absorbed into her system. Professor Snape approached the girls when he heard Hermione's shriek but by that time there was no evidence of the goop on her at all.

When the professor asked what exactly happened, Pansy simpered, "I'm so sorry, Professor Snape. The potion slipped out of my hand."

"Learn to be more careful, Miss Parkinson," was the teacher's response. "Since you do not seem to have suffered any ailments from the potion Miss Granger, return to your seat."

Without a word Hermione fumed as she did as directed. Harry was sympathetic but it did little to placate her. The bitch was going down.


	6. Lacking Faith

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Six - Lacking Faith_

Harry tried to cheer up his potions companion but Hermione would have none of that. It made for a miserable class. If he wasn't being degraded by Snape, he was either being brushed off by Hermione, desperately trying to ignore Lavender's barely restrained cleavage (which she was consistently bouncing in front of the still ignorant Terry Boot) or he was worrying about exactly how much Malfoy seemed to be smirking and how it wasn't directed at him for once. What was the Slytherin up to?

After what seemed to be hours, the bell mercifully tolled and Harry all but ran for the exit with a slightly confused Hermione trailing in his wake. He made his way to the Great Hall and distractedly began to eat a roll. Wordlessly, Hermione sat by his side. Soon Ron completed the trio when he slouched over to the table with a wide grin on his face.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" asked Hermione as she reached for a pumpkin pastie.

"Murphink," replied Ron through his overlarge mouthful.

Harry snickered at Hermione's disgusted expression, causing her to glare at him in disapproval. "Really, Hermione, you should know better than to ask Ron a question when we're at lunch."

The witch eyed him reproachfully (although she didn't deny his claim) before turning her attention back to her lunch.

They ate in silence, each absorbed with their own thoughts and when Harry's free period began he regretfully made his way to the library. He briefly considered restarting his search for the noversia spell but since Justin had the list, he didn't want to accidentally reread a textbook. Translation - Harry was procrastinating. About five minutes later, Justin sped into the library as fast as common courtesy would allow and plopped into the chair opposite Harry.

"Sorry I'm late," puffed the Hufflepuff. "I got stuck talking to the Fat Friar. He was going on about how _God loves everyone_. Again. When he gets started, it's hard to get him to stop."

Harry blinked. He hadn't really considered that the Hufflepuff ghost used to be a clergyman and he was now quite pleased that he had little contact with it. The Lord was one of the last people Harry would ever turn to. He spent a large portion of his childhood hoping and praying that someone would take him away from the Dursley's but no one ever did. Until Hagrid that is. His malnourished faith had given up on a higher power a long time ago.

"That's alright, Justin. Shall we get started?" Harry asked as he began gathering some more transfiguration textbooks and dumping them on the table.

Justin swiftly withdrew the parchment from his bag and spread it open on the table. After he glanced around the room for Madam Pince, he quickly performed a tricky little charm which caused the titles on the parchment to rearrange themselves alphabetically. He checked the titles on the new textbooks against the list. The Hufflepuff managed to find seven they'd checked last time and deposited them on a sorting trolley. He was already engrossed in a tome as the books started to float themselves to their rightful places on the shelves.

Time passed incredibly slowly for Harry. He had never been a bookworm (unlike a certain bushy haired witch) and found himself easily distracted from his work. So far he'd seen a second year girl run shrieking from the restricted section, he'd counted at least twenty-seven green books re-sorting themselves onto the shelves, he'd avoided Madam Pince's piercing eyes several times, he noticed a brown barn owl swoop past the window with a garishly wrapped box dangling precariously from it and gave up trying to study after his ninth book.

There was only so much he could take. "That's it," Harry announced to his companion, which almost caused the Hufflepuff to tumble from his seat in surprise. With an almighty slam of the last book he'd scanned through (_Tricky Transfigurations to Torture Trolls_ by _Teresa Trifford_) he pushed it away in disgust.

"Don't give up yet, Harry. We're sure to find it soon!" chirped Justin with his usual cheerful smile.

It took a superhuman effort from Harry to refrain from picking up the horribly alliterated book and thwacking Justin over the head with it. Somehow he managed it. He left his things scattered on the table and stalked angrily toward the librarian.

"Madam Pince, can you help me find a book, please?" he asked trying to smile winningly but failing miserably. He was far too angry to be sweet at the moment.

"Of course, Mister Potter. What are you searching for?" she inquired politely with a touch of a smile on her lips.

"We're looking for the noversia spell. Do you know where we can find it?" Harry was overjoyed that the librarian was willing to help. Perhaps they would get the spell today after all.

Madam Pince opened her mouth to reply but a strange gurgling sound emerged instead. After a couple more attempts at speaking, the librarian huffed, "I assume this is for Professor McGonagall's sixth year assignment, yes?"

Harry just nodded, his eyes wide.

After pursing her pointed lips, Madam Pince explained that Professor McGonagall had charmed the spells she'd selected so that no one would be able to aid the students in finding or learning them. "That way she would know that each pair completed the work themselves."

Disheartened, Harry thanked the witch and slumped back to the table.

Justin glanced up from the latest tome he'd discarded to see Harry staring dejectedly at the towering pile of books. "Don't worry. We'll find it. I just know it."

Harry glumly nodded although he privately disagreed. He searched through several more books (at half the rate of a certain studious Hufflepuff) before he decided it was a lost cause. They were never going to find the bloody thing. He voiced his concern as he gathered his things at the end of their free period.

Justin was not swayed. "We can do it, you just have to have faith, Harry. That's what the Friar would say."

At least Harry managed to refrain from talking back to Justin. The boy was trying his best after all but he couldn't keep a disbelieving snort from escaping.

Either Justin didn't hear it or he ignored it completely. Before long the pair had left the library and returned to their respective classes.


	7. An Explosive Situation

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Seven - An Explosive Situation_

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley's nature to be cheerful. Ever since he could talk he'd spent most of his time smiling, laughing and enjoying himself. It was such a pleasant surprise when he received his Hogwarts letter and despite the fact he was going to study abroad, he still had no trouble making new friends. It was easy to do with Ernie, Susan and Hannah. The four seemed to gel from the moment they met. Since they were such a close knit group, he shouldn't have been surprised (although he was) that they cornered him in the Hufflepuff common room with concern.

"Just," began Ernie in his usual pretentious sounding voice. "What's with you lately?" The blonde boy was shuffling the exploding snap cards quickly (since they tended to explode when they got a little bored) and hastily dumped an eight on the table.

"What do you mean?" replied Justin although he knew exactly what the other boy was talking about.

Hannah snorted inelegantly. "All week you've been out of sorts. What's got your panties in bunch?"

Justin made a few random choking noises at her bluntness as Ernie laughed and Susan stared on with horror. Out of them all, Sue was the most prudish and was prone to being easily offended. A slight diversion was created when the exploding snap cards decided to detonate and Ernie was catapulted over the edge of the sofa. He clumsily rose to his feet as Hannah began to roar with laughter. When she had (finally) calmed herself down and some of the sooty residue was wiped from Ernie, the pair ganged up on Justin and demanded to know what was going on.

With a sigh, Justin related, "It's my transfiguration project for Professor McGonagall."

"You should have done Muggle Studies with me like I suggested last year," drawled Ernie.

Justin shot a glare at his friend. "I was raised as a muggle. I don't need to know how to operate a microwave. I've been doing that for years."

Ernie just shrugged. "It's your loss. You could have gotten an easy NEWT if you had."

"Like I said last time Ernie, I'd rather not spend both History of Magic and Muggle Studies being bored out of my brain. One of them a year is enough," Justin argued. "Anyway, the problem isn't the subject. Well, I suppose it is a little but really it's Potter."

Hannah smirked at him. "Ah, I should have known it had something to do with Double P."

"Double P?" asked Justin dubiously. Really some of her acronyms for things were ridiculous. Like MBF - Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret. That one she'd been using since the very incident two years ago.

Hannah's smirk broadened. Sometimes Justin wondered if the Slytherin's had hoodwinked the sorting hat and placed Hannah into Hufflepuff as a spy. It seemed like something the snakes would do. "You know - Perfect Potter. I mean you've only had the world's biggest crush on him for ages."

Justin's cheeks and ears reddened. "It's not got anything to do with that!"

"Hah! I knew it!" Hannah shrieked as she danced around the common room. She was attracting some stares from their housemates but didn't let it deter her. After bouncing around, forcing Ernie to tango and then erupting into the camarena (the wizarding world's form of the macarena) she plopped back down in her seat. When the other Hufflepuffs returned to their former conversations she questioned, "So you've stopped denying it then?"

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Justin nodded. He glared at Hannah when she squealed and threatened, "If you don't knock it off now, I won't share the details with you."

Immediately, Hannah was sitting composed in her seat with all traces of annoying girlishness erased. It would have been a spooky transformation if he hadn't seen it before. Ernie was still watching the conversation, the curiosity evident in his eyes and Susan's only indication of interest was a slight lean toward him. It told him exactly how much they craved his story. It was the first time that he'd ever mentioned an interest in a specific boy since he'd come out to them last year and considering Hannah's annoying ability to pry information out of him, that was truly saying something.

His outing was due to an unfortunate experience at the hands of Umbridge. During one of his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, he'd been paying little attention to the latest chapter that they were forced to read and was instead studying Zacharias Smith of all people. Although he might deny it, Justin did seem to find the moron somewhat attractive. It would never happen of course. Somehow, the broad noticed his lingering stares and gave him a week of detentions for his "unnatural interests". The other three demanded an explanation from him and by the end of the week he cracked. Only Susan needed a little time to adjust. The other two took it in their stride (Hannah was of course shouting that she'd known for ages - even though Justin was sure that she hadn't) and that was that.

It was a similar situation, the three had ganged up on him to get to the truth. Justin began his confession. "Harry's the reason I realised I was bent in the first place. He was so nice to me in second year but I got scared after that duelling club fiasco. When I was revived from petrification and found out that he'd saved the school from that bloody great snake, I started feeling strange whenever I saw him. So I avoided him. It wasn't until we were in the DA that I realised it was those kind of feelings. That's when I got us to duel as far away from him as possible, Ernie."

Justin looked apologetically at Ernie who waved it off with ease. "I always wondered about that. I just thought you liked Smith since he was usually nearby."

Shuddering with disgust, Justin's face screwed up. "Um, ew. Anyway, we've been paired up for this assignment and have researched the stupid spell twice. Both times he's been easily distracted, bored and peevish. I've been trying to keep him positive but it just seems to annoy him even more and I'm worried that by the end of this project, he's going to hate me."

Susan placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about that. Harry's too nice to be mean to you or, well, anyone for that matter."

Justin smiled weakly at her. "Thanks, Sue but I can't help it. I like him so much even though I know I shouldn't. He's clearly not into wizards anyway so whether he likes me or not shouldn't even matter."

"Of course it matters," argued Hannah tenderly. "You've fallen pretty hard for him and even if he doesn't know it, whatever he does will affect you whether you like it or not. Just remember we're here for you whenever you need it."

"We're Hufflepuffs," announced Ernie.

"We stick together," joined in Susan.

"Through thick and thin," contributed Hannah.

The trio continued the rest of the Hufflepuff mantra together. "Forever and ever. We'll stand by you in times of need, like Helga did for the other three. Rowena, Godric and Salazar, would never have gotten quite as far, without her help and loyalty, it's the Hufflepuff way for eternity!" The three hugged Justin together and through their forms he could just make out the familiar portrait of their founder smiling warmly at him from above the crackling fireplace.


	8. A Peeping Portrait's Musings

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Eight - A Peeping Portrait's Musings_

When she was alive, Helga Hufflepuff had done some amazing things. One of the most well-known was that she was one of the four founders of Hogwarts but there were some lesser known facts. Like her invention of the petrificus totalus spell. A large pot of devil's snare in her conservatory (now the Herbology greenhouses) was causing her problems and she soon became bored of conjuring flames to combat it. She developed the spell to immobilise it without damaging the delicate organic tissue. She had no idea how useful the spell would be for healers until she was awarded an Order of Merlin for her contribution to the field of medi-wizardry.

Another relatively unknown fact (with the obvious exception of Hermione who had memorized it in _Hogwarts, A History_) was that the forbidden forest was her baby. When Hogwarts was in its infancy, she nurtured the surroundings creating a magical forest to protect the castle's inhabitants from those who would do them harm. Being the sanctuary it was, many creatures emigrated to inhabit the forest. Some of them were not what she would have expected. The acromantula colony for example. She had hoped to encourage a pride of sphinxes to live there but they refused to leave the desert. Plus Rowena was the only one who could ever work out their damn riddlespeak.

Helga's traits and knowledge lived on (although she had long since perished) in the form of a magical portrait. The original portrait still resides in the headmaster's office where she shares a scene with the other three founders. They're sitting together on a divan sipping distilled firewhiskey from a crystal decanter after their first night of opening Hogwarts to the public. It was a carefree time before the rifts began to form between them.

After a few decades, Helga discovered that there was a portrait she could reach through a trapdoor behind the divan which led to her very own common room. She loved it there. The familiar room and like-minded people was like a breath of fresh air after being trapped with the other three for so long. It wasn't uncommon for her to cheer up her fellow Hufflepuffs or give them a little guidance if requested. She got to sit on a park bench in the cheerful sunlight of a spring afternoon. What a life.

A few centuries later was when she discovered the last. She could reach it by following a hidden path next to an apple tree. The path led to an unused room overlooking the quidditch pitch. Helga had a feeling it used to be a charms classroom but it was so long ago that she couldn't exactly remember. She'd been around for about eleven centuries, give a girl a break.

If ever the hustle and bustle of the day got to her, she'd retreat here like she was at the moment. It was her favourite place to think as she was never interrupted. Well, today she wanted to indulge in a little reflection.

She had seen the latest Hufflepuffs grow from young children into witches and wizards who were almost of age. She must admit she had a soft spot for Ernie Macmillan. He acted so high and mighty but was really one of the most generous wizards she'd met in recent times. It was through him that she noticed Hannah, Susan and subsequently, Justin Finch-Fletchley. She'd watched the four of them since their first year. She'd seen the games they played, the tricks they got up to, the trouble they occasionally got into and she'd even witnessed Justin's coming out. Of course she'd had some stern words with little Susan after she ran away but the girl had quickly come to her senses.

So it was a certain Gryffindor who had captured his interest. She had hoped that Harry Potter would be a Hufflepuff but instead she was doomed to an eternity of listening to Godric's gloating about it. One day she was going to kill him if he ever said...

Her musings were cut short as the door to her room was flung open by Seamus Finnegan. The boy swaggered drunkenly into the room, a bottle of Odgen's clasped loosely in his hand. He was followed by Blaise Zabini who was in a similar state but was somehow carrying five bottles instead. He swayed precariously but managed to stay vertical and save his precious load before depositing most of the collection onto a random table.

It was Blaise who spoke first as the pair started to take a swig from a bottle apiece. "I musht admit I thought you wunt larsht this lung againsht me. Even Malfee cant drink tis murch."

As drunken fools usually do, Seamus somehow understood the statement and replied, "Well wot did yous ekshpect? Im bleedin Erish!" The alcohol combined with his accent made it difficult for Helga do discern what he was saying.

Blaise's eyes roamed quickly over the Irishman and he dashed forward. "Yer bleedin? Weir?" He extracted his wand (with his left hand as his right still clung to the bottle) and tried to find Seamus' wound with the intention of magically mending it.

"Whatchoo doin, Base?" asked Seamus as he blearily looked down to see Blaise searching around his right leg.

Without warning, Blaise sprang back to his feet to search the boy's chest only to collide their heads together. Seamus brought his hands to his face where his nose started bleeding as Blaise was rubbing the top of his head. The two were momentarily distracted as a smash echoed through the room. Helga blanched at the sound.

Seamus' bottle of firewhiskey had shattered on the floor and the spilled drink was quickly spreading. Almost without a thought, Blaise repaired the bottle and set about drinking as much of the magical alcohol from the floor as he could. Seamus joined him in his task and when the majority of the scorching liquid had been consumed (and the rest lay forgotten) Blaise looked up at his drinking partner.

Blood was still gently trickling down his nose and Blaise managed to stem the flow with a spell. "Sho thats where yoush were bleedin!" he announced triumphantly. Using the edge of his robes, he cleaned Seamus' face gently until most of the blood was clear. He grabbed the boy's face and turned it from side to side, examining it in the light. "Itsh all fines now. Yure jusht as prity as alwaysh." He let his fingers linger on Seamus' cheek before he slowly leant forward and brushed his lips over the Irishman's mouth.

Within moments their tongues were intertwined and hands were running deftly over each other's robes. As quickly as they could they divested each other of their cumbersome robes and hot raw need took over their bodies as they rubbed themselves together in a delicious kind of friction. Since they were already lying on the floor, they took advantage of it by simultaneously exploring the other's body with their tongues. With each moan and whimper, their excitement increased as they sucked their partner's pricks. Seamus took the initiative to sample the Slytherin's balls as Blaise licked and sucked his way to the Gryffindor's hipbone. As if they were magnetised, the pair were drawn back to the other's throbbing appendages and were soon swallowing each other's releases.

After a brief moment of recovery from their shared orgasmic bliss, Seamus inverted his position so his head was sitting next to Blaise's and they snogged deeply a few times before passing out.

Never in her centuries of existence had Helga Hufflepuff witnessed such a display before. She swiftly rose before running off to where Sir Cadogan's portrait resided. She never thought teenage boy sex could get her that turned on until she had seen in with her own two painted eyes.


	9. The Friend, The Nonsense and the Reprise

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Nine - The Friend, the Nonsense and the Reprise_

Seamus Finnegan was still enjoying the heavenly haze of post-orgasmic bliss as he sauntered to his usual seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. He had always thanked his Irish heritage for his ability to drink more than most without the accompanying hangover. One time he'd actually gotten a little headache but that was pretty much it. As always, he was pain free and as he glanced toward the Slytherin table, he was almost certain that Blaise had cast at least three glamour charms just to look presentable. For a brief moment the two locked eyes and Blaise cheekily winked in his direction before turning his attention back to his friends.

It had begun as a study session into their transfiguration spell (teffingor) which was rapidly abandoned in favour of a series of drinking games. It had all been going well until Madam Pince discovered them in the restricted section of the library with quite a few (sixteen) bottles of butterbeer and firewhiskey strewn around them. She shrieked incoherently at them as she banished the boys (with the same charm Professor Flitwick had once taught them with pillows) and vanished the last remaining evidence of their escapade.

Somehow, the pair of them had found this uproariously hilarious and retreated to an abandoned classroom to continue their drinking session. Before he'd known what was going on they had slept together. Three times. Wow. Sure he was open to both boys and girls but none of them even slightly compared to the olive skinned Slytherin. It had been spectacular.

When they had awoken in each other's arms, they decided to continue their little liaison as a friends with benefits scenario and Seamus couldn't be more excited. He'd never been one to find himself lacking in the sex department but to secure the Italian as a permanent fuckbuddy was beyond fantastic. Without meaning to he let out a little sigh of contentment which his best friend picked up on.

"What's gotten you so cheerful this morning?" asked Dean Thomas.

Seamus just shrugged with a small smile before concentrating on his eggs.

Dean's eyes widened. He grinned and stated, "You got some last night, didn't you? So who was the lucky one this time?"

"Blaise," Seamus breathed with contentment. "I'll tell you all about it when we get back to our dorm." Without another word, the pair scarfed their food and split. Mere minutes later, Seamus related the tale to Dean although he did spare him some of the more gory (sensual) details such as Blaise's size and exactly how well they fit each other. There were some things he didn't need his best mate to know.

With a smirk, Dean congratulated his friend on his good fortune. "Good on you, mate. It's about time you found someone who could keep up with your, erm, charismatic sexual appetite. Three times? That's pretty bloody good."

With a satisfied sigh, Seamus commented, "You have no idea."

Just as Dean was about to start wisecracking, the pair were interrupted as Neville fell through the dormitory door, having snagged his foot on the top stair. As he toppled over, his overladen arms threw an abundance of herbology textbooks, quills, parchment, ink bottles and his old remembrall of all things about the room.

The three boys quickly retrieved the elusive items and deposited them onto Neville's bed. One of the sheets of parchment took Seamus' interest. Mostly because it was odd.

_Name._

_Sinuous lively feelers pit flattery. Inept essence either flaunt duality._

_Mount._

_Witch advantage week home she's hate. Mint house you'll book nose. He'll holding permit they're pointy entice._

"What's this all about?" the Irishman asked the Longbottom heir, waving the parchment toward him.

Neville looked at it before stuttering a quick reply. "Erm, it's, er, well, it's nothing!"

Before Seamus had even managed to blink, Neville had snatched the parchment from his grasp and safely tucked it into his robes. Something fishy was definitely going on but there was no way Seamus could do anything about it because Neville had already grabbed his bag, packed in his possessions and was already on his way to transfiguration class.

Seamus and Dean quickly followed suit. It wouldn't do to keep Professor McGonagall waiting. She would give them detention despite the fact they were in her house. Not like Snape.

The pair managed to arrive before the tardy bell (just) and plonked into a set of seats to meet the disapproving stare of their transfigurations professor. "What!" demanded Seamus somewhat rudely. "We made it didn't we?"

This was not something that should have been directed at the teacher as she immediately bristled with muted displeasure. "Mr Finnegan, you would do well to remember exactly who you are talking to. Five points from Gryffindor for discourtesy to your head of house. I'd have thought you would have remembered my simple instructions from last lesson."

Seamus frowned deep in thought. He tried to recall exactly what he'd forgotten but couldn't work it out. Dean quickly rose to his feet and moved to sit next to Luna Lovegood.

"It seems that Mr Thomas managed to remember that you were asked to sit next to your partner for the remainder of your project." Professor McGonagall's glasses flashed strictly (just like the rest of her) in his direction and without further ado he sped next to Blaise. Within moments of the Professor's boring lecture, he found the Italian's hand resting on his thigh and the Irishman found it rather comforting. He tuned back in as Professor McGonagall was saying, "...se use the remainder of this lesson to work on your projects. Begin."

Seamus glanced surreptitiously around the room.

Dean and Luna were leaning over a textbook together, as were Lavender and Terry but only the boy's eyes were upon it. Lavender's were eyeing the Ravenclaw as she tried to somehow place her breasts in his line of sight but was failing miserably at her task. Pansy and Hermione were refusing to talk and even look in each other's direction. They looked rather ridiculous as they both had their arms crossed and were facing away from their counterpart.

Neville and Millicent were (strangely enough) passing notes to each other. Surely that was suicidal in Professor McGonagall's class. Oh well, it would be their funerals if they were caught. Harry and Justin were reading through a sheet of parchment which seemed rather full. Didn't they remember that they weren't writing an essay? They're supposed to teach their spell to the class instead. The last pair was the most strange of all. Ron was staring into space above the class textbook as Malfoy tried to ignore his existence. The Malfoy heir would disdainfully snarl to himself and sneak looks in the redhead's direction before quickly averting his gaze and then repeating the process all over again. Ron was so out of it that he didn't even notice the blonde's strangeness.

A tightening of the hand on his thigh bought Seamus' attention back to his fuckbuddy and what a pretty handsome fuckbuddy he was too. The Irishman smirked at the Italian who quietly asked, "Your place or mine tonight?"

"Mine," decided Seamus. They locked eyes and revelled in the fact that in a few hours they would reprise the acts they had entered into just last night.


	10. Screamed Raping Bondage

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Ten - Screamed Raping Bondage_

Neville Longbottom sighed with displeasure. He had been reading through his notes on his bed when he heard Seamus enter the dorm. While that wasn't particularly bothersome, when the tell-tale sounds of some pretty serious snogging could be heard, the boy gathered his things and hastily left the room.

Dumping his things on a table in the common room, he glanced over his notes again. They were from transfiguration. The one on top was the one Seamus had picked up this morning. He reread the nonsensical note with a very un-Gryffindor-like smirk. Millicent Bulstrode had surprised him. On the day they were assigned the project, she told him in her usual brash manner that she already knew their spell and what it was used for. Within a small session in a classroom next to the Slytherin Dungeon, she had successfully taught it to him.

"Elusius eferenis," muttered Neville, pointing his wand at the parchment. Before his very eyes, the letters and punctuation marks began to quiver. Mere moments later they slid around the page, realigning in the order in which they were originally written.

_Neville._

_Since you seem to have a handle on the elusius eferenis spell, I think we're done meeting up._

_Millicent._

_p.s. Watch out for Malfoy, he's been pretty darn shitty lately. He might take it out on you._

The bumbling boy couldn't help but smile even though he'd already read this note a couple of days ago. There was something about Millicent that he found rather refreshing. It might have been that she was the only Slytherin that had never made a fool of him. It might have been that despite her trollish appearance, she had the most captivating smile. It might have been that she'd been able to teach him a spell within minutes that would have taken anyone else, even Harry or Hermione, a lot longer to convey to him. Well, whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.

Neville had kept every letter she'd written for him and stashed them in his trunk. He was about to rise to his feet to deposit this one and the others from class with the rest when he remembered why he left the dorm in the first place. With a shudder, he instead grabbed a fresh leaf of parchment and thoughtfully dabbed his quill into a dark green ink bottle. Writing as neatly as he could, Neville began to construct a new letter.

_Millicent._

_I just wanted to try another little message to ensure that I have the spell under control. Please let me know if this was legible._

_By the way, thank you for your warning about Malfoy. I have no idea what niffler crawled up his ass but I managed to avoid his biting sarcasm. Harry wasn't so lucky. I heard they had to go to the hospital wing. Apparently, Harry was sporting three black eyes and Malfoy's nose had turned into a carrot. It makes me wonder if he could still use it or if everything just smelled like carrots. Nonetheless, thank you._

_Neville._

The Gryffindor checked his letter for errors and when he was satisfied, he picked up his wand once more. "Elusius," Neville stated quietly so the others in the common room wouldn't overhear. He watched the words slip around the page and with amusement read the new words which were formed from the now rearranged letters.

_Miscreant._

_Injure two lithe we smelling totally state stole tenure thatched I'd screamed raping bondage. Plaintive thespian tool._

_Burly select forks swathe welt Mount Isa vile wither yokel. Information having half willowy fountain boy feared bushy useless. Harming isn't avoidable. Itchy sturdy harrows they'll ark path gothic hose waiting. Apple heed Madagascar's twenty spore bakery Italy. Hairy those found than nose nature stammered croak wander hold effuse stall rival tour jot crikey soul. Naked one's star mouse hit heel tiny._

_Nothing._

Neville found the words 'screamed raping bondage' both hilarious and disturbing. The fact that it was clearly in his handwriting even though he didn't actually write it that way was a little freaky. He packed away his things and approached Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were sitting at a different table, one much closer to the fireplace. Harry was doodling on a piece of parchment that was supposed to be his charms homework and Ron was making no attempt at his potions essay as he stared blankly at the table in front of him. Sniffing with contempt at her companions, Hermione was reading a muggle novel since she had finished her assignments a long time ago.

Looking up from the Tom Clancy book, Hermione asked, "What are you up to, Neville?"

Neville smiled at her. "I'm off to the owlery. Could you watch these for me please?" He gestured to his things.

"Oh, certainly." Her eyebrows furrowed. "Why don't you just put them away?"

Against his will, Neville flushed. "Um, Seamus is entertaining, er, someone."

The prefect's eyes narrowed. "I hope he's not doing anything he shouldn't." She looked like a mini-McGonagall in the making.

Harry snorted. "He's been doing those sorts of things for a while, 'Mione."

The bushy-haired Gryffindor looked aghast. She turned to face Neville, looking for either confirmation or denial.

The boy shrugged. "I left when I started hearing the slurping." If it were possible, Hermione looked even more revolted. "Once I was woken from a nap to worse sounds than that. Unfortunately, I was trapped in my bed since I didn't want to seem like a pervert by interrupting them."

It seemed that Neville's little story managed to shock Hermione into speechlessness. A very rare feat. It didn't last too long though. "THAT'S HORRI..." the bookish girl started to screech but a burning sensation flooded her body. After a few moments, it mellowed to an itchy feeling before disappearing altogether. Shaking it off, Hermione looked from Harry's stunned expression to Neville's disbelief before asking, "What?"

"Um," began Neville but he had no words to follow.

"Lavender," yelled Harry. "Can I borrow your mirror?"

The buxom girl drifted over, pulling her hand-held mirror from a pocket. "Sure Harry, here..." she drifted off, freezing where she stood as she noticed Hermione.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione groused. She marched over to the girl, snatched the mirror out of her fingers and examined her reflection. "AAAAAH!" she shrieked. The mirror slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor. Lavender's anguished cry brought the prefect to her senses. With a flick of her wand, the mirror repaired itself and Lavender retrieved it, clutching it to her overlarge breasts before running away so her baby wouldn't be damaged again.

"I can't believe it," gaped Harry. "You look like a Malfoy."

Hermione and Neville silently agreed before looking at Ron. To Hermione's disgust and the boys' amusement, he hadn't even moved during the entire ordeal.

"I'm going to the hospital wing," announced Hermione as she glanced down at her now straight platinum blonde hair.

"I'll walk with you a ways," offered Neville, his letter clutched in his hand.

The pair disappeared through the Fat Lady's doorway, leaving Harry alone with the barely conscious Ron.


	11. Saying Goodbye

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Eleven - Saying Goodbye_

According to Madam Pomfrey, Hermione's condition was irreversible. "You should have come to the hospital wing as soon as you were doused in the potion. It's too late to reverse it now, you silly girl," chastised Madam Pomfrey as she shooed Hermione from the room. As Hermione angrily stomped through the castle toward the common room, she lost twenty points for Gryffindor for (very colourfully) cursing Snape, Parkinson, Slytherin in general, incompetent medi-witches and the collective unfairness of life. Really, she should've had the sense to erupt at her destination rather than in the corridors near Professor McGonagall's office.

When Hermione told the boys about her condition and loss of points, Ron should have kept his opinions to himself because the verbal assault he received in return was not welcome at all. It was during her barrage of heated words that she angrily brought up his recent inattentiveness. It was to Ron's credit that he didn't cave to Hermione's assault and explain himself. In many ways, his problem was just plain embarrassing.

Ron's Patented Daydream Charms dependency had moved from merely addictive to borderline obsessive. After his enjoyable daydream in Binns' class, he immediately sent a letter to his brothers with a few sickles. He requested as many charms as his savings would allow. Before the following evening, a package arrived with Flynn (apparently the owl was a grandson of Errol's) with a hideous orange Chudley Cannons gift-wrapped parcel. The twins had sent him a collection of charms that he could afford plus a complete set as an early birthday present.

The following days were spent in a haze of bliss. So far he had snogged Dreamy Draco (as he'd started referring to the charm's creation in his head) on empty quidditch pitches, on a large yet comfortable magic carpet, in a few enchanted forests (which were much more peaceful than the forbidden one), in a hot spring, in a coral reef and on a moonlit plain. Each charm easily surpassed the one before it and it wasn't just for the scenery. The snogging sessions had become much more passionate and a warm heat would pound through his body with excitement every time. Even if it was with the git.

Ron's fixation with the blonde had worried him at first. Thus he'd tried conjuring others in his stead. The first was the most obvious. Lavender Brown. She had been shamelessly throwing herself at every available wizard (and as rumours had it, at quite a few witches too) ever since her breast size exceeded a B-cup (now it was over double-D). Their imaginary tryst was progressing nicely until Ron noticed that her curvaceous bosom wasn't as large as he thought it was. He pulled back from her eager lips to find himself staring into the storm grey eyes of Malfoy but he was too worked up to care and proceeded to return to the teen's ministrations.

Not to be put off, Ron tried imagining himself with Hannah Abbot and then Katie Bell with the same results. It was then that the concept that he might be gay floated through his mind so he started a fling with Cormac McLaggen. Sure the guy was a complete prat but Ron was pretty sure that he did find the twat quite attractive. Despite that, it was once again Malfoy who was attached to his lips by the end of the charm. After attempting to kiss with Malcolm Preece and in a fit pure desperation with Adrian Pucey (a Slytherin who was two years older than him) it seemed that his desire for Malfoy outweighed them all. Why? Why did it have to be that self-satisfied bastard?

There was only one charm left in Ron's trunk and he was starting to worry about how he would survive without his illicit affairs with Dreamy Draco. It's not like he could use the charms for the rest of his life and he certainly couldn't afford it anyway. He also had a bad feeling that Hermione's new appearance would only serve to remind him about how good Malfoy felt. Girl or not, she now looked like a Malfoy but it was still the Slytherin asshole that he wanted.

Ron eventually escaped Hermione's stern and lengthy lecture on his recent behaviour to his dorm bed. He sat with his legs crossed with the last charm resting on the bed in front of him. "Alferavious exonium," cast Ron as he fell into his last charm. Looking around the room, he found himself sitting on a blanket in the middle of a grassy field. Light blue flowers were interspersed with many purple butterflies idly flapping around them. Ron had to give his brothers a lot of credit. Every charm had been brilliant and for the first time in years was proud to be related to them.

Arms reached around Ron and he already knew who they belonged to so he leaned into the embrace. The pair sat in silence for a considerable length of time. He was going to miss this. Miss the strong yet petite arms, the hard kisses, the feel of his luxurious hair, everything. Unbidden, tears rose to his eyes and he tried to stop them but couldn't. The arms tightened instinctively around him which only caused him to cry harder.

"It's okay, Weasley," crooned Malfoy's voice as he rocked the pair back and forth.

"No, it's not," replied Ron, breaking out of their hold and turning to look at the boy for the first time since the charm began.

Malfoy reached up a hand and started brushing away Ron's tears. "Everything will be fine."

"It won't." Ron stopped Malfoy's actions with his much larger hand. "I'm going to miss you, miss us."

"Of course you are," smirked Malfoy. "I'm fantastic."

Ron brokenly chuckled. "You're still a complete git."

"I never said I wasn't," returned Malfoy.

Ron's expression fell. "It was our last time and I spent most of it doing nothing or crying. Damn, I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that." It was the first time Malfoy had spoken harshly since the original charm. It caught Ron's attention and he gaped in surprise at Malfoy. "You were promised a half an hour of guaranteed relaxation. Sometimes it's a casual snog, sometimes it means escaping by yourself. Sometimes it's a gentle embrace and yet sometimes you just need a bit of a cry. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ron."

It was the first time Dreamy Draco had called him by his first name and Ron couldn't help but gather him up in his arms. A fizzing sound could be heard and the familiar sensation of the end of the charm hastened Ron to slide his hand down Malfoy's face. The teen leaned into his caress with his eyes gently closed. "Goodbye," Ron whispered. "I'll miss you, Draco." His eyes lingered on the blonde as their world fizzled out of existence.


	12. A New Life Mission

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twelve - A New Life Mission_

For the fourth time this week, Draco Malfoy wondered exactly how his life had become the most bizarre story in the history of wizardry itself. It all started earlier that year when he and his friends were tricked and forced into becoming the Dark Lord's slaves. He, Blaise and Pansy were holidaying in the Cayman Islands together when their fanatical fathers (or in Blaise's case, mother) stunned them and brought them to the Dark Lord himself. They were immediately marked and released with a very important mission. It was their duty to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the room of requirement.

It wasn't until the three were sitting on the Hogwarts Express that they were finally able to freely discuss their predicament. Naturally, none of the Slytherins supported a virtually immortal, renegade half-blood who had the ugliest face since Medusa. Draco was surprised that his Death Eaters weren't spontaneously combusting from looking at his hideous visage. They had two choices. They could keep their loyalties to themselves and rely solely upon each other or they could take their story to the headmaster. As much as they despised the old dingbat, they elected to tell him.

In true Dumbledore style, his eyes twinkled at them mercilessly, lemon drops were repeatedly offered (and refused) and they were eventually granted sanctuary from their families who would no doubt be angry, disappointed and could very-well be killed by their master for their spawns' misdeeds. To Draco, his father had always been a liability to the Malfoy line. The man preached about how a Malfoy bows to no one and the next second he's at Mouldywart's feet. His mother had never been close to him, it was almost as if they shared a mansion, nothing more. In other words, he doubted he'd be too heartbroken if they were condemned to death by the lunatic.

Since then he had stayed safe in Hogwarts, was renounced as the Malfoy heir through a howler at breakfast and had started to enjoy his life for the first time ever. He'd never had the freedom to do whatever he liked and went a little wild. So far his un-Malfoy-like moments included burping aloud in the great hall, scratching his nose in charms, smiling instead of smirking when he received an O on his latest potions assignment and reading from a book in the library that wasn't about dark magic. All in all he liked his new-found liberty.

However things had become quite strange recently. First was Potter. The brunet had little time for Malfoy and even though he was now just Draco (as his surname had been magically removed by Lucius) the saviour of the wizarding world still hated him. At least he'd managed to bring off that eye-multiplying hex he'd been working on for the last few weeks (even if it only made one instead of the seventeen it was capable of). Then Granger happened. The pumpkin juice in Pansy's mouth at the breakfast table sprayed all over the place and when Draco followed her line of sight to see the newly transformed Gryffindor, he almost had a heart attack. If he had a sister, he imagined she would look just like her.

The other oddity of late was the most bizarre yet interesting one of all. Weasley. The pair of them had been arch-rivals since their first journey on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. Which was why Draco found it so unsettling being ignored by him. First the teen had been virtually unreachable. His eyes were always glazed over and no matter what the blonde said, nothing would capture his attention. It was almost like he'd been turned into an inferius, just without becoming a hideous skeleton-like corpse.

Something must have happened recently to the weasel because instead of his usual disinterest, something else was going on. Before, the teen seemed to be zoned out. Now he was alert but was actively refusing to look in his direction at all. Granger seemed pleased that the boy was back to normal but no matter how vicious his insults were, Weasley never once looked at him. In times past, this would have been a wonderful and exciting thing but now nobody would argue with him. Pansy would just slap him over the head and Blaise would just roll his eyes and refocus on whatever book he was reading (or he'd disappear to shag Finnigan). Granger would just sniff at him and since his little run in with Potter, the boy would just tell him to go away. He never realised exactly how much he'd relied on the redhead to react until he suddenly wasn't.

For some inexplicable reason, this royally annoyed him. It had pissed him off for days! He was Draco Mal- wait, just Draco. Who the hell did Weasley think he was to ignore him?

Mind made up, Draco left his friends in the Slytherin Dungeon and extracted his gold pocket watch. It was a gift from Lucius a few years ago. He tapped it with his wand. "Where's the weasel?" he asked clearly.

A bored female voice replied snootily from the watch. "He's in the divination classroom. You know, at class. That place where you learn things? Where you should have been one hundred and twenty-seven minutes ago."

"Shut up," he muttered, immediately making his way toward the divination tower. He lurked in a nearby doorway and when the students were leaving for the great hall, he grabbed the surprised Weasley from behind and threw him into the classroom he'd been hiding in. Before the boy could even think, Draco had bound him to a desk, retrieved his wand and marched up to the redhead.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Draco, glaring at the teen.

Ron refused to look at him and stared sullenly at the floor. For some reason this pissed the blonde off even more.

"Look at me," demanded Draco.

Ron's eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Dammit, just look at me you over-sized ox."

Nothing.

Fed up, Draco stormed to the boy, grabbed his head and for one glorious moment, he finally made eye contact. That was until the boy closed his eyes. Furious, Draco shook the boy's head. "Just fucking look at me!" He swore in front of someone, he would definitely add that to his small list of un-Malfoy-like behaviours.

"L-leave me alone," muttered Weasley.

The catch in his voice caused Draco to stop shaking his head. A single tear captured his attention and the blonde watched its progress as it slid down the freckly face. Something was really wrong with the weasel. In all the times the two had traded barbs, he'd made him get red in anger and pale with shock but never had he managed to make him cry before.

"S-stop that, Weasel. I didn't shake you that hard." It never really occurred to him that he was sort of comforting the boy.

The words however had the opposite effect on Weasley and the tears started to flow swiftly down his face. Draco froze in shock. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to fight angrily and Draco would finally get to feel good about cutting a dim-witted fool to pieces with his razor sharp wit and sarcasm.

For the first time in ages, Draco had no idea what to do.

Eventually, he decided that there wasn't going to be a fight so he vanished the ropes that were binding the boy and before he could move, the tall redhead was sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder. With a look toward the ceiling, Draco wondered exactly what terrible thing he had done in a previous life which caused this horrible event to transpire as he gingerly patted Weasley on the back.

That was when Draco decided to make it his mission in life to work out what the hell was wrong with Weasley.


	13. Don't Kiss and Tell

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Thirteen - Don't Kiss and Tell_

"Why is everyone crying lately?" muttered Millicent Bulstrode to herself as she thumped toward the Slytherin Dungeons. Yesterday she stumbled across Weasley who had tear tracks running down his face. Then she walked through Moaning Myrtle as she was wailing about how Peeves had stolen her ghostly glasses. Of course, if she hadn't been so distracted by Weasley, she wouldn't have been dense enough to go to that bathroom in the first place. This time she had specifically gone to a different bathroom but alas, Lavender Brown was quietly snuffling in a corner. The girl was making little squeaking noises that sounded suspiciously like a dying hamster and having reached the end of her tether, Millicent approached the girl.

"Alright, Brown, what's gotten you into a snit?" she demanded harshly.

Lavender sniffed a few times before she managed to calm herself a little. "It's, it's, er..."

"Today, Gryffindork." It took almost all of her restraint not to pick the girl up and throw her into a wall.

Pouting, Lavender finally finished with, "It's Terry. He, he never seems to no-notice me. I'm practically throwing myself at him and he's too busy staring at some stupid book. What's wrong with all this?" she asked as she cupped her large breasts. With another sob she continued. "He's a boy, it should be all he thinks about. So what's wrong with me? What do I have to do? TELL ME!" she shrieked, grabbing Millicent by her green-edged robes.

Naturally, Millicent shoved the girl off her. As she seemed to become even more hysterical, Millicent slapped her.

Silence finally echoed throughout the bathroom.

Millicent broke it. "Get a hold of yourself, Brown."

Lavender lifted a hand to her now reddening cheek in shock.

"Why do you care so much about him anyway?" asked Millicent. "Surely there are plenty of other boys for you to bag."

A frown creased Lavender's forehead. "I, I don't know. I mean, I've never had any problems like this before. Not with Ron, Ernie, Theodore, Professor Flitwick, Dean, Oliver, Fred and George..."

"I don't need to hear your entire snogging history!" exclaimed Millicent in disgust but Lavender continued with her extensive list and was even counting them off on her fingers.

"...Colin, Pansy, Cormac, The Fat Friar - although it was like trying to kiss an early morning fog, Adrian, Neville..."

"NEVILLE!" shrieked Millicent loudly, finally causing Lavender to stop reciting her lengthy catalogue of conquests.

"Oh yes," gushed Lavender with excitement. "He was terribly sweet about it all. We never went out or anything but there was that one time in the charms corridor and it was, well, heavenly. He's by far one of the better kissers in our year."

Millicent blinked. "Really?" she asked without meaning to.

"Definitely," nodded Lavender. A rare shrewd look graced the Gryffindor's face. It was a well-known fact throughout Hogwarts that Lavender Brown was rather dim. Her fiasco last year with a flock of flamingos during her OWLs had become somewhat legendary but if there was one thing she did know well, it was romantic endeavours. "You like him, don't you!" she smirked at the Slytherin.

"W-what?" stuttered Millicent. "Of course not!"

"Oh please, I can tell that you're lying." Lavender was practically glowing with triumph.

"I'm not."

"You are too."

"No." This was really starting to piss Millicent off. She almost wished the girl would start crying again.

"Yes"

"No."

"Yes."

"N..." Millicent's reply was cut off by the arrival of a paper plane. The twin propellers began to slow and by the time it had reached Millicent, the parchment unfolded itself into its usual form. Against her will, a small smile graced her face.

"Oh my!" squeaked Lavender. "It's from him, isn't it?"

Millicent was too busy muttering, "Elusius eferenis," at the parchment to listen.

_Millie._

_I couldn't find out why Ron was crying yesterday for you. I asked Harry and Hermione but neither knew that he'd been sobbing in the first place. Hermione didn't seem too happy to find out about it either - she's probably pissed at him for keeping secrets. I'm expecting an invitation to a nice summer burial at the Weasley family plot any moment now. However, Seamus told me he saw Ron in the company of Malfoy of all people (after a shag or two with Blaise) so maybe they got into another fight? It doesn't seem to make sense though because he's been ignoring Malfoy for ages. Why would he start fighting with him now?_

_Nev._

_P.S. I like your new haircut. The green streaks look very nice. Maybe next time you could also add some silver ones too..._

Millicent smiled at the parchment but her usual scowl returned full force when Lavender ripped it from her hands and read it through too.

"Well, he likes you too," decided Lavender.

"He does?" asked Millicent in disbelief.

"Oh yes, complementing a girl on her beauty always shows how interested they are," Lavender smiled.

"What should I do about it?" Millicent paled. No one had shown any sort of interest in her before. It was quite daunting.

"Well..." Lavender considered the letter. "You've been sending letters to each other a lot?" she inquired.

"Yeah."

"Then I think it's time to up the innuendo," smirked Lavender as she sat on the floor of the bathroom and extracted some parchment, inks and quills.

"Don't you dare!" yelled Millicent as Lavender began uncorking an inkwell that was a revolting shade of pink. Lavender sighed before replacing it in her bag. "Black will be fine."

Very soon, Millicent had written a couple of Lavender's ideas (some were either far too embarrassing, too shocking or, well, too lusty) and she had a complete reply.

_Nev._

_Thank you ever so much for your valiant attempt. It means a lot to me. I never would have thought he'd keep secrets from the other two. Draco Malfoy, hmmm? I might have to corner him and see if I can satisfy my curiosity. At least he doesn't seem to out for your blood anymore. I don't know who I'd write to if he managed to kill you._

_Millie._

_P.S. I'm glad you like my new haircut, I really value your opinion and your humour. I never knew you were so funny. I like it._

Millicent was pleased with the final letter because for the most part it sounded like her. She felt it was genius of her to refuse to write... _If you like my hair so much you should come down to the Slytherin dungeons and play with it, all of it_ like Lavender had suggested. Shuddering at the thought, Millicent spelled her freshly scrambled letter to Neville and turned her attention back to Lavender. "Do you know what I think?"

"What?" asked Lavender as she banished her writing tools into her bag.

"I think Boot's the first person to ignore or reject you. He's the first person to make you work for it and that's why you like him so much." Millicent thought aloud.

Lavender looked speculatively at the Slytherin. "Maybe," she admitted.

"Well, as fun as this has been, Brown, I think we've spent enough time in the bathroom," announced Millicent as she rose back to her feet.

"Lavender."

"What?" asked Millicent in confusion.

"My name is Lavender. Use it." The Gryffindor smiled at the Slytherin. Millicent was a little shocked. She'd never really made friends with others from outside her own house. It was a little unsettling but also felt good.

"Millicent."

"Not Millie?" inquired Lavender with a small grin.

"That name's only for Nev."


	14. Pink Plumage

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Fourteen - Pink Plumage_

Lavender left the bathroom feeling uplifted. Millicent had surprised her. She was quite funny and in a few ways, rather girly. Lavender had spent the rest of the day pondering her words. "_I think Boot's the first person to ignore or reject you. He's the first person to make you work for it and that's why you like him so much._" She hated to concede that she was pretty much spot on. Terry was the only person that had rejected her, with the obvious exception of Luna Lovegood who was actually one hundred percent straight. Lavender had always thought her sexuality would be as erratic as her scattered brain.

It galled her that out of all the extremely attractive boys in the school, the one Lavender really wanted didn't seem to know she existed - a true feat considering they were completing an assignment together. Thinking it through, Lavender came to three possible explanations. One - he's gay, two - they're not compatible or three - she wasn't smart enough for him.

Gay? Not likely. Susan had told her that she had dated him and he was a real good kisser. She was also sure that she'd seen him checking out Alicia at the last quidditch match. Hmmm, there was practically no chance of him playing for the other team.

Were they compatible? Well she was really into him. His cute glasses and rumpled black hair got her rather tingly with excitement. The flip side though was a little upsetting. She knew he liked girls but he never looked at her. She tried her pink "date" dress which had (until now) never failed her. She had also tried virtually exposing her abundant breasts but still he never looked away from his precious books. Bloody Ravenclaws! There was, however, an underlying feeling. A small sense that was all but screaming that if she could get him to notice her that he'd like her for sure. Lavender hoped it wasn't a false feeling.

This left one alternative. She was too dumb for him. How could he hold a conversation with her when she could barely string three sentences together without tripping over the big words? She had to find a way to show him that she wasn't just an incredibly beautiful face and an overwhelmingly large set of tits. Maybe if she worked out their transfiguration spell before he did, she could finally get his attention. She rummaged through her bag and eventually found the parchment where she'd written it down. For the first time she actually considered the spell (imrelgion) instead of trying to get Terry's eyes to look her way. Hmmm. It sounded a little familiar.

It took a moment for the memory to surface in her brain and with a whoop of glee she found the book she was looking for in her school trunk. She clutched the pink, fluffy, feathery tome to her chest and hugged it happily before finding the spell in the contents page. She flicked to page twenty-seven-and-a-half and read about the spell, relishing in her victory before she began to pout to herself.

Truly, Professor McGonagall was sadistic. This book was a Christmas present from Cormac when they briefly dated last yuletide. He found it uproariously funny; she did not. It was the reason she'd called it all off. The book was called _Flirty Flamingos_ and included a list of flamingo related spells and charms. He had been making fun of her hatred of the stupid birds after the OWLs incident. Apparently, imrelgion was a spell which transfigured flamingos into umbrellas.

Despite her hatred of the pink, feathery creatures, she felt a brief rush of affection for them as they may have given her a window of opportunity to bag the boy she had her eyes on lately. She checked her reflection in her baby (the mirror Hermione had destroyed and repaired) and swept a couple of loose hairs behind an ear. Clutching the pink feathery book under her left arm, Lavender swept from the Gryffindor girl's dorm and approached the most likely hiding place of a Ravenclaw.

Lavender searched the library and quickly found her crush behind a large volume called _A Boring but Insightful Collection of Common Transfigurations by Edward Schuller_. She waited patiently for a few minutes before remembering that he never seemed to notice her. She not so subtly cleared her throat. The large tome was lowered and Terry Boot peered peevishly at her. Against her will, a thrill ran through her body since it was the first time he'd looked into her eyes since they'd started this stupid project.

"Are you just going to stand there all day, or can I get back to working on **our** project?" asked Terry brusquely.

Lavender's eyes narrowed at the boy. Sure she wasn't known for her academics, but that didn't mean she was stupid or not contributing, even though just before was the first time she'd thought about their stupid assignment for McGonagall since they received it. Instead of verbally replying, she threw her book at the intelligent boy's head. He didn't react quickly enough to catch it (quidditch player, her ass) but the feathers cushioned its impact.

Terry's grey eyes flashed dangerously behind his glasses. "Flirty Flamingos? Is this some kind of romance novel? Why in the name of Merlin's white whiskers do you think I would want to read this?" He slammed the offending book onto the table with a muffled thump.

About to yell at her crush, Lavender actually considered the appearance and title of the book and involuntarily giggled. Terry's mouth curled into a sneer and he was about to start chastising the girl all over again but she spoke first. "Turn to page twenty-seven and a half."

The Ravenclaw warily did so and he couldn't stop his mouth from opening in surprise. The spell he had been scouring the library for was sitting in the middle of the second most ridiculous book he'd ever laid eyes on. Hagrid's _Monster Book of Monsters_ was obviously the first - the homicidal freak. His eyes drank in the words and mere moments later he was setting the pink monstrosity aside. "Well done, Lavender. I was beginning to think we'd never find it."

Lavender flushed a pretty pink colour at his praise and his change of demeanour.

"Well," Terry thought aloud. "We'd better get a move on. The first group to teach the class starts next week. We have to get this spell learned and perfected before then." He quickly packed up his equipment and swung his bag over his shoulder. He grabbed Lavender's hand and dragged her from the library.

Despite his strong grip and fast pace, Lavender couldn't help but smile. He was finally holding her hand!


	15. Oh Snap!

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Fifteen - Oh Snap!_

Justin wistfully watched Terry drag Lavender from the library over his latest tome. He'd do anything to be out of the insufferable place but unfortunately the spell still eluded them. This was their ninth study session together and it was starting to take its toll. Their list of checked books now exceeded ten feet of parchment and they were actually starting to run out of books to search through.

Glancing over at Harry, Justin wondered how long it would be before the boy cracked it. It was a well-known fact that Harry Potter was not a particularly patient boy. Lately a few of his comments had been rather cutting but Justin merely brushed them off (even though they hurt) knowing that it was just the stress of the assignment. A sigh caught his attention. That was the twenty-eighth sigh this session, not that he was intentionally counting. It had more to do with the fact that they were so deeply felt by Harry that they were rather hard to ignore.

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll find it yet!" Justin's cheerfulness was completely faked now. In fact, he thought repeatedly stabbing himself in the eye with his quill would be more fun than trying to keep Harry's spirits high.

Slamming the book he was currently reading shut with contempt, Harry turned his attention to the brunet boy who he thought probably farted happiness. It seemed that Harry had finally snapped. "What the fuck is your problem, Justin? You stupid Hufflepuff. We've been searching this goddam library for the last few weeks for a spell that McGonagall probably made up and you're acting like everything's alright? You might not need to take transfiguration NEWTs next year for whatever stupid meaningless job you're going to be stuck with but I do. If I'm to become an auror after Hogwarts, I need to achieve in this subject and I can't do that with you, sitting there, chirping like a freaking Pygmy Puff on Firewhiskey. SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU FAGGOT."

There was a shocked silence where Harry realised what he'd just vented as Justin sat dazed in his seat. Against his will, Justin's eyes began to tear up. He'd been coddling this boy as he acted like a spoilt brat since the beginning of this assignment and this is how his kindness is repaid? Justin silently stoppered his inkwell and started sorting his things back into his bag. The only thing he left out was the list of searched items.

Justin's movements snapped Harry out of his stupor. "Justin, I'm so sorry..." he began but his apology fell upon deaf ears as Justin was not paying him the slightest attention. The Hufflepuff rose to his feet and began to leave the library, tears still streaming down his face.

Harry realised that he was being ignored (and rightly so) so he reached out and grabbed the retreating Hufflepuff by the shoulder and spun him around. "Please, Justin, I'm real..." Before Harry could finish his sentence, a look of pure hatred flashed over Justin's tear-laden face and a blur was all he saw before he found himself held by an invisible hand which was both choking his air supply and lifting him into the air. Three more spells sped toward him, none of which he recognised and he felt his hair roughly yanked, received a swift kick to the balls and his ears grew to a size that rivalled the sorting hat.

Justin turned and walked calmly to the entryway of the library. When he reached it he turned around to look at his first crush. Crush indeed. He cast a few spells which released Harry from his various punishments (although the pain probably lingered on) who quickly curled up in a pitiful ball on the floor.

Speaking quietly, yet clearly to the boy he'd just attacked Justin unemotionally stated, "For your information, I want to work at the Ministry of Magic in the portkey department. A NEWT in transfigurations is mandatory for acceptance as an apprentice. Now I no longer care, do the assignment on your own. You already know that I'm a muggleborn. I know what **that** word means and I know **exactly** how offensive it is. I thought you were a hero, a saviour. How stupidly Hufflepuff of me," Justin spat. Without waiting for a reply, he left for his dorm. There was no way he'd be going to any classes today.

Harry eased himself up off the floor. He didn't know what hurt the most, his body from Justin's wandwork or his ego and psyche from his cutting words. He woefully approached the table they'd been working at for weeks and slumped into his chair.

In all honesty, Harry kind of liked the boy, even if he did seem to be happy all of the time. He was bright (for a non-Ravenclaw) and hard-working. It was a far cry from what he used to be. Harry still remembered the boy last year from his time in the DA. Well, his spellcasting was much improved from then, Harry thought to himself as he gently rubbed his still painfully throbbing testicles.

How could he be so stupid? Why did he have to say that particular word? Sure, Uncle Vernon did use it father fluently amidst his other colourful vocabulary but he never thought he'd randomly spew it out in a fit of anger. Especially when it had been weighing on his mind lately. The last girl he liked was Cho and that was last year but how could he accurately judge if he liked her (or girls in general for that matter) when she spent most of the time crying or trying to make him jealous? Then again he's also made Justin cry, so maybe it was his thing. How could he say that to Justin? Especially since he'd been so nice to him. Damn, why couldn't he be known for his kissing abilities or a long schlong instead of treating people cruelly?

Harry packed up the things on the table and thanked his lucky star (Sirius) that no one else seemed to be in the library this morning. After everything was away, he picked up the lengthy list of book titles. It was pretty obvious that he was now on his own. Justin won't help anymore and he can't get help (cheat) from Hermione due to McGonagall's curse. He absolutely must solve this mystery and for the first time, completely on his own to make it up to Justin. Even if he had to spend every night under his invisibility cloak researching, he'd do it. For Justin, the Boy-Who-He-Made-Cry.


	16. Charade

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Sixteen - Charade_

Luna Lovegood couldn't contain her smirk. There was a reason she favoured the library early in the morning. Well, two reasons. The first was that any stupid one night stand participants using the astronomy tower had to pass by the open doorway to get to their dorms. She'd seen many odd combinations over the last couple of years. One of the worst was Oliver Wood and Professor Snape. That one still gave her nightmares. The other reason was that no one else was ever in the library that early, not even the ever watchful Madam Pince. On the off chance there were people within, something interesting usually happened. The faggot comment from the 'saviour of the wizarding world' mere moments ago certainly fell into that category.

Of course, if there was anyone else around, she'd have to say something completely ridiculous like, "Oh my, those Minvils are at it again." Then she'd have to invent some stupid invisible creature who somehow causes homophobic comments and nestles in the liver or some such rot. Such was the role she had chosen years ago to play. It had started with her mother's death; a truly horrifying experience.

Serenity Lovegood was an utterly brilliant witch, a true Ravenclaw. Unlike many of her peers that were interested in studying the history of spells or magical theory, her passion lay in the invention of them. She'd been so excited the day she died. Her latest creation was an enchanted music-box, designed to lull children to sleep. It was the first time Luna had been invited to her mother's lab. Every other time she was forced to sneak in. Of course, volunteering to be a guinea pig was hardly the best of circumstances. At her mother's request, Luna stayed on the far side of the room.

With proud tears in her eyes, Serenity beamed at her daughter. "You are a gift, Luna. Others may not understand how exceptional you are and others may be intimidated by your intelligence. Just remember that no matter what, you will always have my love."

Even though Luna knew all of this already she loved hearing it. Of course she also knew her mother was telling her this in case the music-box lulled her into a coma instead of a deep but short sleep. Yet it still warmed her nine year old insides. Really, who doesn't like being told how much they are loved?

Before Luna could respond, a gentle tinkling caused her eyes to droop but just as she was about to drift off the tune suddenly stopped. Luna blinked a couple of times, the grogginess quickly fading and glanced questioningly at her mother.

Serenity was already peering into the box when it exploded, causing her death, her daughter's ability to see thestrals and her husband's descent into alcoholism.

During the burial, Luna remembered her mother's last words. Serenity thought it was likely that others would be wary of her cleverness. While she didn't really care what others thought of her, the last thing she wanted was to known as an insufferable know-it-all. Especially now that the one woman she could turn to was gone. Her brain processed her life so far and connected mental dots faster than lightning.

That very afternoon, she enacted her newly conceived plan. Her mother's death was obviously a traumatic event. Children who suffer such experiences tended to change. She began to become vague when questioned, she consciously forced herself to raise her eyebrows all the time in an effort to look stunned or surprised by everything. Her strong, unwavering voice was also manipulated to become dreamier. She took to wearing ridiculous things like snail brooches and within mere weeks, Luna Lovegood had undergone her transformation.

By the time Xenophilius realised the extent of his daughter's metamorphosis, it was too late. His sweet smart girl was no more.

Of course, if her own father could be so easily fooled, Luna was certain everyone else would be taken in too. As predicted, they were. Even the teachers of Hogwarts. No one could see through her carefully crafted façade. Well, there were only two. The first was Professor Dumbledore. He was one of the smartest men in the wizarding community and she thought his eccentricities were used in a similar way to hers. Only a complete nincompoop like Lavender Brown would think she could fool the Defeater of Grindelwald.

The second who knew of her intelligence was none other than the sorting hat. Then again, that was what it was charmed to do. To get inside the wearer's head and understand them and their motivations. When the tatty hat suggested she belonged in Slytherin, she began mentally compiling an extensive list of exactly how she could dispose of the garment without being caught and almost immediately, the hat begged her opinion on where she should be sorted. It really didn't want to be permanently glued to a sucker on the giant squid and live sodden in the lake for the next century or two. All in all, the hat was extremely easy to hoodwink and it even knew how she thought.

_Well_, considered Luna in her head. _I refuse to be a Hufflepuff. Which leaves Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. I don't really consider myself brave since I'm practically hiding from everyone so I suppose Ravenclaw will have to do. I hope my father isn't too disappointed, he's always wanted me to be in Slytherin like he used to be._

The hat was barely listening to the girl's inner ranting and hastily shouted, "RAVENCLAW," with an edge of desperation that only she and Dumbledore picked up on and that was that.

Unknown to Hogwarts at large, a good portion of Fred and George's pranking conquests were actually hers but she magnanimously allowed them to take credit for them. That way no one would believe poor little Luna could be a conniving bitch when she needed to be, which was most of the time.

The unknown entity was Professor McGonagall. The woman never looked any differently at her than any of the others but for some reason, she'd moved her from fifth to sixth year. She might have selected her for any number of reasons but most likely because she wouldn't kick up a stink and her father could care less as he was usually drunk. There was still a chance that the aged professor may have worked out that she was more intelligent than most.

The main problem with being so smart was that boredom was her main concern so she spent many a class finding unusual patterns and deducing how they worked. The latest was an absolute mystery to her. She'd noticed that for the last three years, every pair that were thrown together for McGonagall's sixth year transfiguration assignment ended up happily married. The odds against it occurring for three years straight were astronomical. Thus she'd ruled out sheer chance. Yet, the pairs and spells were chosen randomly. It was intriguing to say the least.

Already, the other pairs were starting to form. The sexual tension between Pansy and Hermione was almost visible, especially after the latter's physical transformation. It was ironic how she ended up looking like the boy the former used to pine for before her discovery of her sexual preference. Another example of irony was how Ron had completely captured Draco's attention by ignoring the boring twat, even though for some reason the redhead was enamoured with him. At least Terry possessed some measure of subtlety. It was the same approach but at least he was consciously ignoring Lavender.

Then again, each couple seemed to work. Either the spell they were forced to research or some other thing worked to bring them together. Millicent and Neville were both shy and lacking in confidence yet their spell had something to do with passing notes. Their secret smiles were anything but to Luna. In fact, it was more blatantly obvious than a rampaging troll. Like Justin. He'd fallen for Harry years ago and now the dense Gryffindor was finally starting to notice. Blaise was even worse, which didn't seem possible yet there it was. He'd liked Seamus for years too and when he thought he'd never get him, he started shagging every boy he could. Now they were thrown together.

Which brought her to one chilling thought. Was she destined to fall for Dean Thomas? She couldn't see how. The dark skinned boy was anything but interesting. He was as loutish as every other Gryffindor, yet every other pair had become (or were in the process of becoming) a couple. In fact, he always made fun of her façade in the corridors. More so than anyone else. She hadn't really noticed it before until now. Why did he do that? What the fuck was the boy's problem?

Luna had to work this puzzle out. She refused to find anything remotely interesting about that idiotic, useless pile of bat droppings. She'd find a way out of this or her name wasn't Loony Lovegood!


	17. srebmuN emirP

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Seventeen - srebmuN emirP_

Loony's at it again, thought Dean to himself as he tuned out of Seamus' ramblings about his oh so precious Blaise. In the beginning, his stories were amusing. For some reason Seamus always over-shared the funnier aspects of his relationships (random shaggings) like how Lavender's nose always twitches before an orgasm or how Adrian Pucey accidentally swallowed once and proceeded to lock himself in the bathroom and try to throw it back up again. Since Blaise, he noticed they were more along the lines of how incredible his kissing was or how much his obsidian eyes were like bottomless pits of whatever the fuck kind of mushy thing he was waxing on about. For the sake of his sanity, Dean had been listening less and less to his long-time friend.

In all honesty, Dean had been having similar thoughts about Luna (at least he kept them to himself) for years now. Since the Hogwarts express in third year to be exact. He and Seamus had appropriated a compartment to themselves and were playing a few rounds of exploding snap. The sliding door opened and both boys looked up to see Luna dreamily ambling into the small room. "Hello Seamus and Dean, the Elliminions told me it was safe here. Some of my fellow Ravenclaws were saying some rather awful things to me so the Queen of the Elliminions told me _third on the right_ and it led me right here."

The two boys gaped at her. It came as no surprise (in hindsight, of course) that the bored cards decided to detonate causing the two boys to be thrown against the carriage's walls. Seamus pulled himself up swearing but Dean was frozen in shock. He'd seen a glint of amusement in the blonde's eyes. As an aspiring artist, he'd been honing his skills which included a keen eye for detail and for some reason he could still conjure its image in his mind. It had been real. Genuine. There was much more to Luna than met the eye.

Since then he'd been surreptitiously studying the girl. Everything from her bizarre habits to moments of almost normalcy. Since he started cataloguing her, he could now tell her dreamy smile actually meant she was furious and a small crease would appear on her brow when she was extremely happy. She never laughed aloud but once he saw her shoulders slightly shaking in suppressed mirth. He also discovered that nearly everything she did was carefully calculated.

Dean smirked to himself as the pair neared the transfiguration classroom. His latest conquest was finally working out her earrings. He knew there had to be some obscure way she selected her awful earrings. It had to do with prime numbers. Since she was wearing the radish ones yesterday, Dean worked out the she would be wearing the set that corresponded with the number eleven. He cringed when he was proven right (although he did mentally shout BINGO!) as Luna strolled by with her usual dazed expression sporting two sets of dangling eyeballs swaying by her ears. Yes, Loony was at it again.

"Hey, Loony. Did you remember your wand today? We could be presenting this morning," Dean sneered, causing Seamus to stop his lengthy monologue.

The dreamy expression on her face became even more distant and Dean had to make sure he didn't smile. He loved knowing that he knew her so well and no one else did. "I think the Mompunks made sure it was in my bag this morning but I shall have to check when we're seated, I suppose."

Once again, Dean had to stop himself from smiling. Last year he realised that her made-up creatures followed the alphabet in reverse order, meaning the last one she used were probably the good old Nargles. "Not Nargles this time, Spacious?"

If dreamy expressions could kill, he'd be a mere scorch mark on the floor. "Oh heavens no, they sneak from mistletoe to steal things so they very well wouldn't tell me it was in there. They'd steal it instead."

"Well, what if they were lying?" asked Dean, enjoying riling up the real Luna Lovegood.

"Nargles don't lie," Luna stated.

Dean smiled, he just couldn't help it. Short answers equalled extreme I'm-gonna-hex-your-damn-ass pissed-off-ness.

A sniff brought everyone's attention to Hermione. "If such insane creatures actually do exist, even though I'm certain they don't, I see no reason why they wouldn't lie."

Luna was saved from commenting as a loud snort caused everyone to look in Pansy Parkinson's direction. She was a lovely shade of red from the unwanted attention and had her hand clasped tightly over her mouth. Draco and Blaise started laughing (no one else dared) but were quickly silenced with a sharp slap to each head. Just as the commotion in the corridor was about to explode into a million curses and hexes, Minerva McGonagall finally made her appearance. Predictably, everyone froze and demurely walked into the classroom.

Neville and Millicent were chosen (from another tartan bag - emerald green) to begin their presentation which involved the class learning about their spell, seeing it in action and then trying it out for themselves.

Dean decided it was time to make his move. It was a Tuesday which meant that Luna would manage the spell on her nineteenth try. Dean wrote a small missive, muddled the letters around and passed it to Luna. "Here Loony, hope you can work it out."

Delicate fingers gently wrenched it from his grasp and he settled back to wait for a while.

It was worth the wait. He heard an actual gasp from the girl. She was looking blankly from the parchment to his face and back again. Dean noticed immediately that this one wasn't faked. He flashed her a cheerful smile. With a pale look, Luna swayed as she quickly rose to her feet and moved toward the Gryffindor teacher. "I'm feeling unwell, Professor. May I go to the hospital wing, I think the Lulliptions are trying..."

Professor McGonagall cut off the girl's no doubt lengthy explanation with a hasty yet dismissive wave of her hand. "Go," she barked before turning her eyes back upon the rest of the class.

Luna quickly retrieved her things and left the room, leaving a smirking Dean in her wake. Hopefully she would agree. The only thing left behind was the now legible note.

_Luna._

_It's Tuesday so it'll be your nineteenth try, right? You really have to stop being so predictable or the others may catch on. Sure, I've been watching you for some time. I had a head start but they're not all complete imbeciles! Anyway, fancy a walk around the lake tomorrow at five? If you do, break your prime number routine and wear your dragon-tooth earrings instead of the green shells like you normally would on a two day. At least then I won't spend a long time waiting at the lake for no reason._

_Hopefully yours,_

_Dean._


	18. Tape It Shut

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Eighteen - Tape It Shut_

As preoccupied as Seamus was, he wasn't completely unobservant. Only once in Dean Thomas' life had he worn that revolting mustard yellow shirt. It was the time he'd successfully managed to bag Lavender. It was a one-time thing. The stupid bitch wouldn't know something amazing was standing in front of her unless it proceeded to in some way stick it's wand into her Chamber of Secrets. She'd used him and it had completely crushed his friend. Of course, despite his slight orgasmic high from a few hours ago, it was his firm duty as a best friend to make sure that Dean wouldn't break his heart.

"Well, well, well!" Seamus announced to the Gryffindor common room, some of whom turned their heads to watch the interaction.

Dean took one look at his friend's expression and blanched. He held up a dark-skinned hand in the universal sign of stop. Thankfully, Seamus obliged. "Alright. Yes, I have a date. No, it's not Lavender. Yes, I really like her. No, I'm not going to tell you who she is. It's a small castle, you'll find out soon enough. I've already lined up six time-delayed hexes if you so much as think about inviting yourself along. Now I'm running late. I'll see you later, Shay." Without waiting any longer, Dean spun on his heel and strode beyond the Fat Lady's portrait.

Seamus collapsed onto a nearby couch in shock, perfectly impersonating a beached merman as he was opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. "How, the hell does he do that. It's like he knows what I'm thinking." Rising to his feet, Seamus was knocked onto his ass by an invisible force. He sat stunned once more on the couch before a scowl crossed his face. "THAT BLEEDING..." before he could finish, a thick strip of what seemed to be muggle gaffer tape stuck itself across his mouth.

"SEAMUS FINNIGAN," boomed a loud disembodied voice. "SHUT YOUR DAMN HOWLER! I WON'T RELEASE YOU UNTIL YOU CALM DOWN."

True to its word, Seamus sat glaring at the fireplace for the better part of an hour before he'd calmed down sufficiently enough to appease the spell.

"He should have been in Slytherin, that one," muttered Seamus to himself as he soothed his sore mouth where the tape had been painfully ripped away. The bastard did set some delayed hexes. When he was first attacked he was considering looking out the window at the grounds to see if he could spot his friend, then he was mouthing off about him and was magically silenced.

Sometimes, Dean could be rather frightening. He always seemed to be several steps ahead of everyone else. Seamus was convinced that if Dean played the game of chess, he'd pants Ron every time. Of course, he didn't, leaving the Weasley as the undisputed champion of Gryffindor.

Seamus gracefully accepted that he should let his previous ideas of Dean stalking be and instead left to hunt down his man and oh, what a man he was. Never before was anyone else in the castle able to keep up with the Irishman's insatiable appetite. Until now. Seamus spent most of his time in a haze of sheer ecstasy and for the first time ever, it was from only one person. Blaise.

During their numerous (constant) encounters, Seamus managed to find out little titbits of information from the Italian. Like how his favourite meal is his mother's handmade rigatoni and that no matter how the house elves prepared it, it still tasted nothing like the real thing. Another fact Seamus recently learned is that Blaise can speak three languages fluently and is slowly working through two more. The first time Blaise started muttering in French, Seamus smacked his head, thinking he was calling out to some other sort of phantom lover when he was actually comparing Seamus to heavenly cherubs.

The thing is Seamus had never felt this way about someone before. Sure, the shagging was beyond mere awesome but he'd never let anyone this close before. Instead of just getting off, he was actually getting to know one of his fuck buddies. The more he discovered about Blaise, the more he wanted to learn. It made him feel like a Hufflepuff yet for some reason it didn't bother him at all.

Seamus finally located Blaise in the room they'd first shagged in. It was one of their usual haunts. Without any preamble, Seamus seated himself next to Blaise on the desk he was leaning against and began to suckle on his right ear. The slight jump caused Seamus to shiver with delight at catching his fuck buddy unaware. Almost immediately, Blaise's fingers started running through his hair in soothing circles, silently encouraging him to continue his ministrations.

Soon the clothes were back off again and they began romping all over the room, oblivious to all around them (like Helga Hufflepuff who was once again watching their displays from her vantage point on the wall) as they began satisfying each other. With practiced ease, Blaise traced the freckles on Seamus' torso down to his navel, where he paid particular attention to his left hipbone, a carefully mapped erogenous zone on the Irishman.

Seamus was in heaven. Blaise knew just what to do to get him higher than a Firebolt could ever fly and he hadn't even started on sucking his prick yet.

Blaise inched lower and lower, teasing his lover as much as he could.

Without consciously controlling them, Seamus' hands slid down his body to gently cup the Italian's face before securing themselves in his thick ebony tresses. He muttered nonsensical words as he was lavished all the attention he could ever want.

Just as Blaise began to kiss his way through Seamus' pubic hair, a small sentence broke the symphony of breathy moans, shattering the moment.

"I love you."

Seamus' eyes widened in shock, as did Blaise's and the pair stared at each other, Blaise's tongue still on his lower body.

Without a second thought, Seamus sprang to his feet accidentally causing Blaise to bite his own tongue but he couldn't even apologise. He was already on his way out of there. Why had his tongue betrayed him like that? Why did he have to tell Blaise he loved him? Why hadn't he worked it out after Blaise had gotten him off? As he sprinted out of the room as fast as he could, he heard the Italian call something out at him but he couldn't hear it through his internal ranting. Why?

It wasn't until he was standing out front of the Fat Lady's portrait and she shrieked that Seamus realised he was still completely naked. The stares in the common room bothered him little as he tried to stop tears from spilling down his face. Without a second thought, he dived onto his bed. The day was clearly a lost cause. His last thought as he pulled his covers over him was that if he still had Dean's magical tape over his mouth, he wouldn't have been able to screw up the best thing that had ever happened to him.


	19. Parseltongue Me

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Nineteen - Parseltongue Me_

Two weeks had passed since the "Streaking Seamus" incident (as it had been dubbed by the Fat Lady when she was drinking with her friend Violet) and some things had changed while others had not. Justin was still yet to step into the library or even consider looking in Harry's direction but the latter now resembled an almost rotting corpse. He was starting to sleep in more classes than just History of Magic and had to be brutally poked awake by Hermione on several occasions. Seamus, Ron and Terry were all still ignoring their transfiguration partners which made Millie and Nev's second lesson glacial. The same reoccurred with Dean and Luna's two classes where they easily taught the spell batterate.

The pair had spent the majority of their last couple of dates working on it. Dean had to use some potent persuasion to convince Luna to succeed at her spell on her first try but she eventually caved. The dark skinned boy kept her off balance which very few people were able to do. They transfigured the surrounding rocks into cakes which they sickeningly fed each other as they debated whether using the spell on Hagrid's rock cakes would actually make them edible or not.

It was over the weekend that each member of the Golden Trio received an unexpected windfall of luck. The first was Hermione who actually managed to have a civil conversation with Pansy Parkinson. They not only refrained from name calling, slapping, bitching, eye-gouging, snarking, cursing (of both the swearing and magical kind), punching, screaming and going all-out ninja on each other's asses. In fact, they managed to smile weakly at each other and calmly arranged to meet on Monday afternoon to work on their presentation. Hermione began explaining how well behaved the pug had been to Harry but he fell asleep mid-anecdote and she gave him up as a lost cause.

When he was more rested, Harry snuck down to the library after hours again despite Hermione's earlier protests. If he wasn't so damn tired, he'd have found it amusing that she was forcibly trying to stop someone from studying. The roll of parchment that he had originally worked on with Justin had been enlarged four times to fit more titles onto it.

At first Harry thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he saw the word noversia on a random page of an old dusty tome. He had actually been taking a break from studying after a few hours of research and had found a couple of random books that seemed entertaining. First he'd read a few poems out of a book before the verses began to give him an even worse headache.

Harry then started flicking through a ridiculously scented book with a lilac cover titled 'One hundred and twenty one ways to woo your lover.' Of course there were the usual love potions and breast enhancing charms with amusing moving graphics to illustrate. It was such a surprise to find their spell in this particular book. Now all he had to do was master it. Taking the book with him back to Gryffindor tower, Harry fell asleep for the first time before four o'clock in days.

Unfortunately Harry was woken at the ungodly hour of seven on Saturday morning from an unusually excited (and yet somehow awake) Ron. It had recently occurred to the redhead that very soon he'd have to teach his bloody spell and he couldn't use the library to study up for it. Really he was extremely lucky he and Malfoy hadn't already been called up in class. This had been weighing on his mind even more than the hurt of leaving his phantom lover behind.

Ron had been turning his limited options over in his head. Usually he'd ask Hermione for help but McGonagall's damn curse stopped that from happening. In fact the curse was so restrictive that he couldn't even owl home for some books since whenever he wrote the word with the intention of mailing it, it would dissolve from the parchment before his very eyes. He'd been morosely flicking through his transfigurations textbook when the unlikely occurred. And that goddam ferret had said there was no chance of it being in there. The asshole!

Leaping from his bed as Harry was covering his head with his sheets, Ron hastily wrapped himself in his dressing robe and was out of the tower faster than a rampaging herd of hippogriffs. Within mere moments, he was standing outside the Slytherin common room and was pointing his wand at the Marauder's Map which he had borrowed from Harry just last night. He unfurled it and searched it for his name. Just like it had with the One-Eyed Witch's secret passageway, a little speech bubble appeared next to his dot with the phrase, "Parseltongue Me." Disgusting, thought Ron but privately admittedly to himself that it was truly brilliant. No one in their right mind would say that aloud. Which is precisely what he did, gaining him entrance to common room he had once visited in his second year.

Ron busted into the sixth year boy's dorm which was surprisingly alive with activity and hurled his textbook at Malfoy's head with a triumphant noise. The stunned blonde didn't react fast enough and got smacked in the face. The other Slytherin boys took one look at his enraged expression and ran for the door. Slightly dimmed by hurting Malfoy, who used to be the guy of his daydreams, Ron's smirk slid from his face. "Uh, sorry Malfoy," he apologised.

If anything, his apology caused Malfoy to grimace even more. "I'm not a Malfoy anymore you imbecile." Enraged serial killers looked more likeable than Malfoy's profile currently did.

"Oh, that's right," floundered Ron. His brow furrowed. "So, ah, what do I call you now then?"

The ex-Malfoy blinked in surprise. What on earth would he allow the Weasel to call him? He stuck up his nose and replied, "Supreme Overlord Draco."

To Draco's complete surprise, Ron began to cackle with laughter. "I'll call you SOD for short."

Draco was even more surprised at the witty retort. "You will do no such thing..."

"Anyway Sod," interrupted Ron merrily, "I found our spell. In our textbook. You remember? _The old bat would never choose a spell that could be found in our textbook. _Sound familiar?"

Draco folded his arms and pouted. "Maybe," he conceded. He started to scowl as Ron danced around the Slytherin dormitory with glee.

"Hermione can kiss my ass!" announced Ron as he continued his prancing. "I actually worked something out for myself!"

"I suppose that's true," agreed Draco warily. What was wrong with the Weasel? First he was dead to the world, then just to him, then crying and now dancing around and talking to him all at once? Clearly he needed to see Madam Pomfrey or perhaps he should cut out the middle-witch and send him straight to St Mungos.

Ron, without a second thought, ceased his dancing around, grabbed the blonde by the head and passionately snogged him. It wasn't until he realised that Draco wasn't kissing back that he remembered that this was the real Draco, not his daydream lover. Oh fuck.


	20. Make Me Smile

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty - Make Me Smile_

What the fucking fuck? Draco's brain had stopped functioning faster than the Dark Lord could cast Avada Kedavra. Until this moment in his life, the terms Weasley and snogging had been mutually exclusive. Seriously, who would want to have their mouth mauled by that rabid animal? Why did the universe hate him so? Was the irony poetic or some such rot? Draco considered the strange boy who was currently attached to his mouth and came up with one conclusion. The Weasel was absolutely CRAZY. They'd hated each other for years. That's right, he loathed the core of its being!

How dare the Weasel think he had the right to even think about kissing a Mal... Oh. That's right, he wasn't a Malfoy anymore, courtesy of that blonde bastard. Well, that didn't stop Draco from having standards! Then again, it was a bit hard to completely loathe someone who had recently collapsed on him crying and since his ex-father had stunned him, kidnapped him, unwillingly forced him into the Dark Lord's service and then disowned him, maybe a little re-evaluation was in order. He'd have to edit his list next to his un-Malfoy-like behaviours list in his journal under his pillow.

_The List of People and Things that Piss Off Draco._

_1. Lucius Malfoy - A retarded sack of shit whose only useful moment in life was knocking up Narcissa Black to create the quintessence of perfection._

_2. The Dark Lord - A barely human murderer who's crowning achievement was to die at the hands of a baby._

_3. Heights - They're only manageable from a broom._

_4. Potter - I only really hate him for rejecting me all those years ago. I'm (was) a Malfoy. I know how to hold a grudge._

_5. That Stupid Oaf - He who lacks a last name. If his mere size weren't bad enough, his terrible teaching methods and lack of intelligence make him very hateable._

_6. The Mudblood - Seriously. She sucks up every teacher's ass, except Binns' because he's incorporeal. The Know-It-Fucking-All-Uppity-Bitch got him smacked around at home more than a House Elf uses the word Master. Pansy's incessant waffling about her recently is catapulting her up the list._

_7. Stupid People - This category is practically everyone in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Seriously, why can't we cull all of the stupid people in the world? Oh that's right, the Dark Lord tried and Potter survived. Damn._

_8. The Goblins of Gringotts - They're just creepy._

_9. Weasley - ?_

So where did the Weasel fit on the list? He definitely hated Lucius and the Dark Lord much more. In fact, Potty and the Mudblood annoyed him more too and the loudmouth couldn't be entirely stupid, he did manage to get by McGonagall's chess set at the age of eleven. He used to be at number two on the list but he'd been dropping down as their altercations became more amusing and less annoying. In fact, it was almost like flirting.

That particular thought bought Draco up short. He must have made some sort of move or sound because the Weasel ceased his ministrations and a small sound of pain slipped through his lips as they were ripped away from his still not moving mouth. Weasley stood there, hands still resting in Draco's soft locks (and when the hell did they get there - NOBODY touches his hair!) and his eyes started to tear up. No, not again.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, clearly mortified. He blinked a few more times in an attempt to stave off his tears. "I th-thought you were s-somebody else."

Despite his complete shock at the situation, Draco became livid. "You thought I, Draco, was someone else? Who the fuck else could you possibly confuse me with?"

Weasley whimpered and began to turn with the intention to run but Draco refused to allow it and he grabbed the boy's robes firmly and stared him in the eyes. The boy slightly paled at the glare but held the eye contact, refusing to look away. Draco's earlier realisation returned full force. It was like flirting and what was worse, he liked it. It was irresistible.

Since the silence reigned, Draco narrowed his eyes further. "Let me repeat my question since you are obviously too slow. Who did you confuse me with?"

The Weasel nervously bit his lip and looked away. For some reason, Draco found it awfully arousing. "I, er, may have snogged you in a few of my brothers' daydream charms."

That shocked Draco more than anything else did today. His ever-present anger took hold. "You were using some stupid charm to pretend with, when we've been practically flirting for six years? What kind of frigging Gryffindor are you?"

Weasley's face had snapped back to stare at Draco's at the word flirting and his eyes were bulging in shock.

Draco, who still had a strong grip on the Gryffindor's robes, yanked him forward to crush their lips together. This time the Slytherin was prepared for a snog and he put everything he had into it. Instead of ranting in his head or overanalysing his motives, he threw every ounce of himself into it. When the need for air was too strong to put off any longer, Draco reluctantly drew back.

The guys stared at each other once again except this time eyes weren't narrowed nor insults hurled. Instead it was small smiles and light (or heavy in the Weasel's case) blushes. Yes, Weasley was officially off his shit list.

Letting his inner Slytherin think for a moment, Draco realised that the Weasel had just handed him one of the best forms of revenge against his fath... er, Lucius. What better way to piss off the man who sired him than to start something with one of his family's oldest pureblood rivals? Add that to the fact that it was a male Weasley and Draco could practically hear Lucius' curses from here. The thought made him smile.

Draco was pulled from his musings by the Weasel. "Whoever would have thought the Sod would snog better than my Dreamy Draco?"

With a snarl, Draco leapt at the Weasel, knocking them both to the floor. "When I'm through with you, Weasel, you won't remember that poor representation of me." He started kissing the red-head again with renewed enthusiasm.


	21. Best of Five

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty-one - Best of Five?_

The meeting had started surprisingly well. Hermione was originally unsure if they would get through a few sentences without tearing each other's hair out but for some reason, Pansy Parkinson hadn't made any scathing remarks at all. The now-blonde was sitting on a couch in the room of requirement and was quite impressed with the Slytherin on her choice of venue. She was actually quite surprised that she hadn't thought of working on their spell here in the first place, especially after last year with the DA.

Parkinson sighed forlornly. "Why are we here?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione looked at the girl in surprise. "Obviously, we're here to work on our assignment."

With a raised eyebrow, Parkinson looked at her partner. "We already know what our spell does and can both perform it easily. What are we really doing here?"

"You're right! I hadn't really thought about it like that. What are we doing here?" Hermione was quite surprised at how perceptive the Slytherin was.

With a roll of her eyes, Parkinson replied, "I asked you first."

There was a moment of pause where both girls tried to come up with some sort of reason without success.

"Granger, fancy a game?" asked Parkinson to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"A game of what?" asked Hermione in return before blushing slightly when it was obviously an offer to play gobstones. "Never mind. Er, sure but I've never played it before."

To her credit, Parkinson refrained from smirking at the Gryffindor and joined her on the couch to explain the rules. "It's a little complicated but I'm sure you'll pick it up rather quickly. Each player has a gobstone chest which holds thirty stones. Traditionally, it is wise to have ten attackers (green), ten blockers (red) and ten wilds (gold) but it's not a requirement. I'm sure attackers and blockers don't really need to be explained to you, wilds do. A wild can be anything from a spell, enchantment, enhancement or curse with a wide variety of potential effects. They can be played at **any** time."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding and patiently waited for the rest of the explanation.

"Every time you point your wand at your chest (the gobstone one, not your tits, honestly!) a gobstone is randomly selected for you. Basically, every turn you get an extra stone and can attack with up to three different gobstones. If you have none left you lose."

"Alright," decided Hermione. "Let's give it a go. Best of five?"

"Fine," agreed Pansy. "Let's start with a basic set so you get a feel for the game." As soon as Pansy thought it, two chests appeared on opposite sides of the rapidly expanding room. The lengthening of the room concerned Hermione a little. Why would they need that much space to play a game with little balls?

They were distributed with ten gobstones each and Hermione was delighted to find out she got six blockers. She had a feeling that she'd need every one she could get. After closely examining a few of her gobstones (which were drifting lazily in the air in front of her) she noticed that she could see inside them; little floating images of what her stones were or in some cases, what they could do.

Pansy graciously allowed Hermione to go first. She only had three attackers so she waited for the Slytherin to explain what she had to do with them.

When Pansy realised Hermione didn't know what to do, she said, "Just zap the three you want to attack with."

Hermione pointed her wand at them and they elevated higher than the rest. Pansy did the same with three of her blockers. Without warning, one of Hermione's attacker gobstones transfigured into a troll. A large one at that. Unfortunately, it looked and smelt horribly accurate. Her mind flashed back to first year and was once again profoundly thankful that Harry and Ron were there to save her. The stupid troll ran toward Pansy but one of her blockers morphed into a large brick wall. The troll barrelled right through it and it returned to its gobstone state and drifted back to its place by Hermione. Pansy's wall remains disappeared with a loud crack. The process repeated with the remaining two gobstones where Pansy's spider web snared Hermione's Cornish pixie and Hermione's hippogriff slaughtered Pansy's poor niffler.

Back and forth they went and Hermione thought she had won when she had three attackers while Pansy possessed only one blocker but she wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. She strengthened her lead wall with an alchemy wild, turning it to gold. When it crumbled after Hermione's second troll, she quickly sent it to Barbados with a portkey wild. Hermione still had a unicorn attacker but Pansy had hidden another blocker under an invisibility wild and the centaur shot the unicorn down before it got halfway across the room. Pansy then went on to win the game.

Hermione claimed the second and third after mastering the art of the wildstones but went on to lose three-two to the experienced Pansy.

"That was much more fun than I thought it would be," giggled Hermione as her last house elf was mercilessly massacred by a dark wizard. He then turned his malevolent eyes on her before mutating into a putrid liquid form and squirting her in the eyes.

Pansy smirked in reply. "Well, except for that, I suppose."

Hermione didn't seem to mind. It might have had to do with the fact that she got to exercise her mind against someone just as intelligent as her. It could have been that the game was really fun to play, in a strategic kind of way or then again it probably had a lot to do with how tightly Pansy's robe was plastered to her body after her two deluges upon losing before. "Would you like a rematch next week, Pansy?" asked Hermione, still glowing with happiness. Wait, when did she become Pansy?

If it were possible, Pansy's smirk just widened. "Absolutely. Perhaps you could make your own set before then. It's much more fun when you have no idea what creatures your opponent has. We could even raise the stakes. I don't know about you but I already bathe regularly and I don't need to be saturated when I lose."

A very un-Hermione-like smirk appeared on the blonde, unknowingly causing the brunette's insides to squirm. "Sounds fantastic. Prepare to lose your clothes." Without waiting for a reply, she swept from the room extravagantly, still surprised at her daring.

Pansy (who was trying not stare at her rival's shapely bottom as she left the room and failing spectacularly at that) didn't notice her mouth falling open. Who knew the bookworm would be up for any sort of stripping game? She'd have to tweak her old gobstone set if she were going to see a hell of a lot more flesh next week. Losing was no longer an option.


	22. Never a Dull Moment in Transfigurations

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty-Two - Never a Dull Moment in Transfigurations_

Justin unwillingly dragged himself to transfigurations expecting a long boring lesson of Harry avoiding. Of course, this was extremely difficult to do as he was forced to sit next to him for the remainder of these damn projects. What the Gryffindor had said hurt the Hufflepuff a lot and sitting beside him in class served only to remind him. It was to his surprise that this particular lesson was the most eventful transfigurations class since their original one when McGonagall first transformed her desk into a pig.

Naturally, Justin still refused to look in Harry's direction and sat quietly, hoping that it wasn't their turn to educate the class. Especially since he didn't know anything about the stupid spell (despite his words to Harry, he had still been searching through his friends' textbooks and library books) or how to perform it properly (he'd tried it out a few times but the objects he did attempt it on blew up spectacularly and he doubted that would please McGonagall in the slightest). Luck was on his side as Ron and Mal-no Draco were chosen to present for the next two lessons.

Their spell was a simple one and each pair were given a stick. They were instructed to try out the switching spell, plentaris, on their partner's wand. Justin winced to himself. Passing notes and making cakes involved no real partner interaction, however this spell did and for the first time in over two weeks, he laid eyes upon his once crush. All in all, he looked ghastly.

There were deep, dark circles under Harry's eyes and he appeared more gaunt than usual. What captured the Hufflepuff's eye the most was Potter's hair. The untameable mass of locks were drooping limply around him as if the magic that kept it shiny and wild had left it to die. Obviously, Harry's words had impacted on him as well and certainly not in a positive way. For a moment he felt a rush of sympathy for the teen before remembering the horrible slurs he'd spewed out and clamped down on his sympathetic emotions.

No words were exchanged (with the obvious exception of the spell) and nothing dramatic happened until the second half of the lesson, since everyone was too busy trying to learn the spell. Later when both Justin and Harry were proficient at it and were easily able to switch the other's wand with the harmless twig, both teens saw a horrific sight. At first Justin thought he'd imagined it but one look at Harry's face proved that Draco did actually smack Ron's ass playfully as he walked by, causing the other to blush spectacularly. Harry looked like a thundercloud. For the first time during the lesson, he showed actual signs of life. Murderous ones at that. He wondered who he would kill first, Ron or Draco?

A shriek of delight caused Justin to stop contemplating Harry's explosive temper and his eyes were drawn to the other side of the room. Lavender had jumped out of her seat and was doing an impromptu jig on the spot. "Millie!" she screeched, causing Millicent and Neville who were (until that point) sharing a private snog to abruptly end it, lest McGonagall see and take points away.

"What?" thundered the girl with contempt. Justin wondered if the rumours of her being a quarter troll were actually true.

"I did it! I did it!" Lavender squealed in a pitch that Justin wished only nifflers could hear. He might need a spell to fix his eardrums if she kept that up.

Clearly Millicent wasn't impressed with her antics either and levelled a disdainful look her way. "Did what?"

"I asked Terry out!"

Millicent rolled her eyes, "Congratulations. Now sod off."

Lavender pouted at Millicent. "Don't you want to know what he said?"

"No. I know he said 'yes' or you wouldn't be squealing like a possessed banshee."

Lavender blushed and promptly sat down. She chanced a glance at Professor McGonagall's desk and was met with a stare from two baleful eyes. She squeaked one last time before resuming her spellcasting practise. Terry looked rather smug as he sat next to her. Whoever said you couldn't learn romance from a textbook was obviously unable to apply basic concepts. He knew reading that book _Seduction: A Study Guide for Wizards_ was a done deal.

Just when Justin's eardrums began processing sound at their usual rate, another racket caught his attention.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you're a stupid twat."

All productivity ceased as everyone turned to stare at the usually level-headed Blaise Zabini. "I have nothing to say to you that I haven't already said. Clearly, you couldn't give two shits about what I want or how I feel so as far as I'm concerned, you can take a big leap off the astronomy tower or play a million-and-two-pick-up with some exploding snap cards. Fuck off." The Italian took a few deep breaths before gracefully accepting his detention from McGonagall as he strode purposefully from the room, leaving a shocked and upset Seamus in his wake.

"Don't worry Seamus," Luna's dreamy voice wafted through the room. "The Sylphies are playing tricks with everyone else in the room too. Why else would Pansy and Hermione be talking about Hungarian Horntails, whips, time-turners and lubrication charms?"

Dean was trying to stop himself from laughing at his girlfriend's disguised yet vindictive attack at the girls. He noticed her shoulders slightly moving too and knew she was doing the exact same thing.

Hermione and Pansy looked both horrified and guilty at the claim. They'd been creating lists of what items they were thinking about transfiguring for their strip gobstone match on Sunday. Although they would both deny it, the two were desperately wishing to see the other in their full glory. The pair were saved from responding by the bell and the students all but ran for the door. There had certainly been enough excitement in that class for one day.

As Justin started to make his way back to his dorm, he realised he was carrying the twig instead of his wand. Damn that spell! So he hastily made his way back to the transfigurations classroom where an odd sound he couldn't place was echoing around the room. When he peeked through the door, the sight he saw was one of the most surreal visions of his life. Professor McGonagall had collapsed on her desk and was laughing her head off. Justin cast a quick silencio on himself as he chanced death by running to his desk, reclaiming his wand and bolting back out the door.

It wasn't until Justin had reached charms after lunch that he found a small bundle of star-shaped purple flowers in his bag. He was extremely surprised that they hadn't been crushed by his heavy textbooks. They were tied together with a ribbon and had a note attached.

_Justin._

_In the muggle world (which you may already know) the purple hyacinth is traditionally the flower of apology. I'm truly sorry about what I said. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, I just wanted you to know how remorseful I feel. Also, I've found and mastered the spell, so don't worry about it. I've taken care of it like you requested._

_Harry._

For some reason, Justin found it difficult to concentrate on his lessons for the rest of the day.


	23. The Merlin Express

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty-Three - The Merlin Express_

Shivering with anticipation, Pansy strolled into the room of requirement and to her delight, met with the sight of Hermione's raised ass as the girl was adding some last minute touches to her gobstone chest. With reluctance she cleared her throat, causing the other to shriek in surprise. When the Gryffindor had gathered herself, she smiled at the brunette (who was protectively clutching her gobstone chest to her own chest) and gestured for her to enter.

Pleasantries were offered and some small talk ensued but as they'd been waiting a week for this moment, it was very short lived.

"So, are you sure you're ready to strip off your clothes, Granger?" asked Pansy in a falsely sweet voice, an eyebrow raised with superiority.

Hermione was surprised. She thought she'd still be getting called mudblood. Hopefully this was a step in a better direction. "Of course I am, Pansy. Are you having second thoughts and trying to intimidate me to cover your own gutlessness?" She too could play the nice bitch card.

Pansy's smirk widened. "Never. I'm going to relish seeing your panties drop, sweetheart."

Hermione turned on her heel and marched off to one side of the room. The abrupt movement was to cover her swiftly reddening cheeks. When she wheeled back around she found Pansy on the opposite side, chest by her feet and ready to play. "You first. I went first last time."

"Fine," agreed Pansy. She'd pulled out all the stops with her gobstones set and had tweaked it in nearly every class. She had to sneak into the room of requirement earlier in the week to procure some of her gobstone items. Unbeknownst to her, Hermione had applied a similar tactic a day later.

The five games sailed by at a furious pace.

Pansy's best moment was when she used her diverting charm wild to cause Hermione's Hogwarts Express train to crash into her other attacking stone, Merlin. She had to admit she was impressed. How Hermione managed to create gobstones of either showed exactly how talented the witch was.

For Hermione, the look on Pansy's face when her chimera fell into the depths of quicksand was priceless. "That quicksand's mine!" she shrieked.

"It was before I stole it," was Hermione's sweet reply. She'd used an accio wild when Pansy was distracted with a three-sided mirror blocker. It was nice to utilise her Slytherin side for a change.

Pansy was unwillingly impressed with the idea and thought she'd have to borrow it for the next time she played against Draco.

Hermione had won three of the first five and was still attired in a red singlet and tartan skirt. Pansy was not so fortunate, she had only her bra and a miniskirt remaining.

They stopped for a quick break where they discussed how stupid Draco and Ron were as they downed some butterbeer and firewhiskey.

"The first time I thought that Draco might have had an interest in the Weas... I mean Weasley, was when he was turned into a ferret. He was so short-tempered and even more derogatory toward him than usual. He was so focussed on him, that I wondered if there might be a little something more to it." Pansy nodded to herself as she worked on her current drink.

Hermione nodded along with her. "Yes, I noted an increase in animosity too but paid little attention to it. It wasn't until fourth year when he and Harry weren't talking to each other during the tri-wizard tournament that I truly paid attention to it. Ron spent so much time staring at Draco, which I only noticed because I spent so much time glaring at him. Even when my best friends made up, he would still scan the room for Malfoy at every possible opportunity."

"Stupid prats, thinking they could smack each other's ass in class and get away with it. That's Draco for you, so confident that he's blind to how much people notice exactly what he's doing." Pansy summed up her friend with a wave of her beverage.

Hermione agreed. "Ron's the same. He's too tall to get away with anything." The girls giggled over their friends. "Harry's a different story. He's always attracted attention whether he wanted to or not. With that constant factor, subconsciously, he became ignorant. He's so used to ignoring those around him that when he gets the urge to be sneaky, he sucks at it."

"What were those blue flowers for anyway?" asked Pansy.

"Forget-me-nots. Harry found some ridiculous book about wooing lovers and is trying it out for himself. It's about time he worked out he was gay like the rest of us. He's got this idea about sending Justin double F different coloured flowers every few days and he's already sent hyacinths too. It's sickening. If I were Justin, I'd slap him in the face." Hermione's expression looked as revolted as she felt about it.

Pansy was too busy gagging on drink to reply. Hermione's gay? She'd hoped (especially recently) that she would be but she'd been raised to expect the worst. With a father like hers, who wouldn't? Damn abusive asshole. "Anyway. Drinks are over, let's get naked. I-I mean, let's get someone naked and preferably not me." Oops. Pansy wondered how strong her firewhiskey was and why it was affecting her opponent as much.

Hermione was too busy smiling at her genius. A quick toxin strengthening spell in the girl's firewhiskey was all it took to give her an edge. Naturally, Pansy was the first one to end up topless and Hermione couldn't help but stare at her perfectly rounded breasts. She was also impressed with how the Slytherin fearlessly stripped off her bra. If it were her, she'd feel completely self-conscious.

Unfortunately for her, Hermione hadn't factored one thing into her equation. It appeared that Pansy became more ruthless and cunning with the excess alcohol. In almost no time at all, Hermione's fingers were reaching for the hem of her panties. Her very risqué and lacy panties. Ones that if her parents managed to find out that she actually owned them, she'd have to behead herself and join the headless hunt every year to avoid the shame. With a deep breath, she slid them from her body, baring her entirety to a girl who she'd fought with for years.

Exquisite was the first word that popped into Pansy's head as she saw what lay beneath the very expensive and extremely delicious looking underwear. The alcohol, the competition and her overwhelming need propelled her forward where she crash tackled the blonde to the floor. Thankfully the room of requirement already conformed to her request as the floor became as soft and comfortable as a bed. Pansy's sheer g-string joined Hermione's on the floor faster than Ron could blush.

No crevasse was left unloved or unexplored between the two as every touch felt like fireworks. Hermione tongued her way down Pansy's breastbone, causing breathy moans from the brunette. It was a surprise to Pansy when vines like a devil's snare grabbed her by the wrists and ankles and tied her securely to the spongy floor for Hermione to ravish. A welcome surprise. Even to this day, neither woman knows who requested that of the room since it had been on both of their minds.

Questions were asked of both girls the following day as to where they had slept the night before. Pansy just smirked in reply and Hermione refused to comment. In the end, Hermione got the shits with Ron and answered, "Elsewhere." When he begged for details she added two words. "Multiple orgasms." Ron promptly ran off to Draco and begged his lover to obliviate him. Hermione and sex were two words he never wanted to consider in the same thought ever again.


	24. Do You Remember?

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty-Four - Do You Remember?_

Seamus was still in complete shock. It had been almost two weeks since that day and still he was sulking about it. They'd suffered through the second class of Ron and Draco even though everyone had mastered the spell in the previous disaster of a lesson. The pair were now official since Hermione and Pansy were sick of them lamely hiding their relationship and announced it at dinner for all to hear along with their own newfound bond. Of course, since both of Harry's friends were now gay and in relationships, everyone was watching him, trying to work out if he was too.

Naturally, Seamus knew he was. What kind of straight guy would send small bunches of flowers to get into some girl's pants if they were as famous as him? Seriously. That one last week with the white lilies; Dude, he's going to single-handedly ruin Gryffindor's reputation by acting like a lovesick Hufflepuff. Maybe that's who he's sending them to. Nobody knew (and if they did, they weren't telling) but Seamus saw Harry hand them over to that house elf that kisses the ground which he walks on and it disappeared to deliver them.

The next lessons were Lavender and Terry's stupid flamingo/umbrella thing. At least Lavender seems like she can now stand the pink creatures, unlike last year. They were followed by Hermione and Pansy with their gobstone spell. It was freaking awesome. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other the entire time. Ron was stupid enough not to move out of the way when Pansy suggested it and almost ended up being creamed by an aeroplane. It was freaking hilarious and for a moment it almost made Seamus forget about Blaise. Almost.

The words Blaise said that fateful lesson had been chasing themselves through his brain since that day. _Oh for Merlin's sake, you're a stupid twat. I have nothing to say to you that I haven't already said_. Then he went on to suggest Seamus should kill himself before telling him to fuck off. It was so mean!

So Seamus sat, brooding on his bed wondering what the hell he meant about the whole 'nothing to say to you that I haven't already said' thing. He was interrupted from his musings by Neville who fell into the dormitory, as was his custom. No matter how many times he'd come into this room, he still managed to trip nearly every second time.

Neville blinked once he'd righted himself. At least this time he wasn't sprawled on the floor like usual. Looking at his saddened roommate, Neville asked him, "Hey Shay, what's got you looking so glum?"

Seamus stared morosely back.

"It's about Blaise, isn't it?" Neville decided.

Eyes widened, Seamus squeaked, "How did you know?"

Neville face palmed. He just couldn't help it. Seamus' moping was like Snape being cheerful. It was painful to even think about, let alone witness. "Everyone knows. You fucked like bunnies, fought and then stopped talking to each other."

Seamus' mouth fell open. "How did you know that we were hooking up?"

Shaking with revulsion, Neville replied, "Uh, I walked in on the two of you at least six times that I can think of off the top of my head."

Seamus was shocked. "Er, sorry."

"Right," said Neville emotionlessly. "Whatever happened anyway? It was the happiest I've ever seen you."

"We were friends with benefits but I happened to blurt out that I love him so I scarpered. When he was yelling at me, he said 'I have nothing to say to you that I haven't already said' and I just can't work out what the hell he was on about." Seamus frowned. It made no sense.

Neville pondered this for a moment. "You know what?" he asked as he moved to his trunk.

"What?"

"Use this, at least it'll tell you if you really have forgotten something about him." Neville handed over the remembrall he still had from first year to his Irish friend. Almost immediately, the little sphere glowed a brilliant scarlet. "Looks like you have forgotten something about Blaise after all," he mused.

Seamus' brow furrowed in concentration. What had he forgotten? After about five minutes he leapt off the bed, surprising Neville who was also lost in thought but his were of a naughtier kind involving Millie, a purple sequined bikini and a jar of chocolate topping. The Irishman was grinning somewhat maniacally. "If this doesn't work Nev, I'll buy you a new one for Christmas."

Neville gazed at his friend apprehensively. That particular grin usually ended up with either a brawl, someone at the hospital wing or a disaster of biblical proportions.

Pointing his wand at the remembrall, Seamus cast, "Teffingor." The remembrall started to stretch until it was the size of a large window and started to hover in the air. Despite his distrust of the situation, Neville inched his way closer to take a peek. The window object shimmered a bright yellow before the sheen disappeared, leaving the image of a dark-looking room.

The boys scooted even closer when the view of the room zoomed toward something moving. A few moments later it was apparent that it was Blaise licking his way down Seamus' body and Neville groaned in disgust. As if it wasn't bad enough walking in on them all the time, now he had to see Blaimus porn too? Gah!

Neville was interrupted from his internal musings when he heard, "I love you," from Seamus. Neville looked at the boy in alarm but then worked out it had come from the mirror thingy the remembrall had turned into. He saw Seamus start running nude (and painfully hard) but as he was halfway across the room, Blaise yelled out, "Wait Seamus, I love you too! Ever since the Quidditch World Cup when you saved me from that rampaging Veela. Come back, please." The hurt, begging tone brought tears to Seamus' eyes (Neville's too although he'd later deny it) and the window glowed yellow again and returned to its regular spherical shape. Surprisingly, Neville caught it in mid-air before it could fall to the floor and smash to pieces.

"I didn't know," repeated Seamus over and over, working himself into a state.

Neville smacked him over the head. "What the hell are you waiting for? Go get your man before he really starts to think that you hate him."

Seamus briefly decided that Millicent was a bad influence on Neville but then he remembered his Blaise and ran for the Great Hall. The students who hadn't walked in on Blaise and Seamus before (all eleven of them) got the shock of their lives when Seamus flung himself on the Slytherin and proceeded to kiss, apologise, kiss, cry, kiss, say, "I love you," and repeated the process over and over again for the better part of an hour. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily and Professor McGonagall had to concentrate extremely hard so she didn't start giggling in front of the students.


	25. All Hail the Manipulative McGonagall!

**Interhouse Relations**

_Chapter Twenty-Five - All Hail the Manipulative McGonagall!_

Harry practically floated to transfigurations. His bag was hefted over his left shoulder (it was abominably heavy) and in his right hand were five red rubies. It was his final gift for Justin and he hoped it would be enough. He'd been tormented as he searched for the noversia spell by the image of him crying and although he'd made others cry (by not going out with some randoms who he'd never met before) this was the first time he truly felt bad about it.

The funny thing was when he found the spell in that stupid book, he was about to run away and tell Justin all about it before begging for his forgiveness. For some reason his mercy was imperative but one quick look at the book stopped him dead. Each of the spells before had the usual moving illustrations to accompany it and this one was no exception. One of them was a raven haired man and he was giving a blonde lady flowers. Somehow, as Harry was staring at the image, the blonde hair became brown and in his mind, the woman had become a very handsome man. He became Justin.

Just like that, his brain made connections it hadn't made before and things he had once seen or done were experienced in a different way. The feel of Oliver Wood's arm on his shoulder in first year. The smouldering and dangerous eyes of a young Tom Marvolo Riddle (pity he turned into a complete nutter). The way he practically swooned over Professor Lockhart in Defence Against the Dark Arts (another freak show - hopefully this isn't a pattern). The heady smell of Cedric Diggory as he suggested Harry take a bath with the egg. Even the charming visage of Viktor Krum and his brooding personality were once again remembered. Thoughts and memories he'd hidden away from the world so well that he'd concealed it from himself returned full force. Holy shit, he's totally gay! No more wondering about that anymore.

Now all he wanted was Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry could still remember the scared little boy he was in second year at the duelling club. Even then there was something about him, something that called out to him. At the time, he thought it was just about trying to save him, even though his housemates had turned Justin's loyalty. Understandably so, most of the school were convinced he was the bloody Heir of Slytherin. Having now grown up, the boy was much more handsome and Harry wanted him. All of him.

As this was still processing through his mind, he once again noticed the textbook picture and the solution became clear. He had to woo him. Thanks to his many hours spent tending to Aunt Petunia's garden, Harry knew a lot about flowers already. From there life became much easier. He got to sleep for more than a couple of hours for the first time in ages, he was able to perform the spell easily and his plan was actually working. After the lilies, Justin forgave him but wanted little to do with him. Harry got a vibe that Justin was actually enjoying the attention so he increased the frequency of his flower deliveries instead. Yellow snapdragons, pink carnations, and orange gerberas followed and now he was to make his final delivery. It all came down to this one but he was a Gryffindor goddam it. He (apparently) lives for situations like these.

The students were getting themselves seated but Harry moved to the front of the classroom. He and Justin were the last pair so it was their time to present. Justin was standing uncomfortably at the front. It was understandable considering he had no idea what the spell does. Harry moved next to him and flashed him what he hoped was a friendly smile, not a lusty one. The class settled quickly when Harry raised a hand since three quarters of them were in the DA (the only exceptions were the Slytherins) and they eagerly awaited his every word.

Without talking, Harry set the five rubies on Luna's desk at the front of the room and with a well-cast noversia, they bloomed into ruby-red roses. "The noversia spell is used to turn gemstones into durable flowers." With that he dumped the contents of his bag on the floor. Gems scattered everywhere which (naturally) he'd gotten from the room of requirement where he walked in on a very naked pair of ladies, one of whom was tied to the floor. He was forever thankful (after the shock wore off) that they were too busy doing each other to notice his presence.

"A competition, the first pair to create twenty correct flowers gets to keep their gems at the end of the lesson." With that said, most of the students dashed to grab some stones from the floor. Hermione rolled her eyes with contempt and summoned some from her seat. While the class was occupied trying to get the spell to work, Harry took his five roses to Justin and shyly handed them over.

"Thank you," accepted Justin with a twinkle in his eye. He gently placed them on a nearby table and approached Harry. Without warning he slapped him on the face. Due to the competition, no one else (except Professor McGonagall) were none the wiser. "If you ever say something like that to me again, I'll remove your balls and feed them to the Giant Squid," he threatened. "Do you understand?"

Harry wisely nodded and stayed silent.

"What do these ones mean? There's no note," asked Justin softly.

Steeling himself, Harry replied, "It means l-love."

Justin froze on the spot. At first he thought he misheard but in the end accepted it as true. That was how Harry found himself with an armful of Justin, who immediately began snogging his admirer with an ardent passion. A loud clearing of a throat pulled the boys back to the present and they looked sheepishly at their stern teacher. They intelligently chose to continue their, er, chat later.

By the end of the lesson, only three tables had managed to make any progress with the spell. The best pairing was Pansy and Hermione who only managed to make three. In the second lesson Harry shared the secret that they had to choose a gemstone that matched the colour of the flower that they were imagining, otherwise the spell was impossible. Dean and Luna ended up winning the competition but before they could claim their prize, Luna turned to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, I don't want the jewels. Instead I want answers," Luna's airy tone was no more. Dean had been coaxing her to give away some of her eccentricities and to hell with anyone who was intimidated by her. The class sat in shock.

Professor McGonagall's shrewd eyes rested on the Ravenclaw.

"I want to know how for the last three years every pair for this assignment ended up as a couple."

There were a few gasps around the room, one of the loudest was from Hermione who had never made such a connection before and was feeling ashamed. Well, she was feeling ashamed until Pansy's hand found its way into her lap and from there her concentration began to waver.

"One hundred points to Ravenclaw," announced Professor McGonagall to the surprise of everyone in the room. Even Pansy's wandering hand momentarily stilled in awe. The aged teacher rose to her feet and collected the three tartan bags from the very beginning. She placed them on her desk and looked at the class. "I've been teaching this subject for over fifty years and no one else has made that connection before. When I completed my NEWTS a very long time ago, I received a B. In those days, it stood for Beyond Outstanding. The reason for that are these three pouches."

The class looked at the bags in amazement. They appeared so, well, ordinary. Lame too.

Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at them an announced, "Finite incantatem." Before their very eyes, the three pouches began to transform into three entirely different objects.

"This is a Soulmatescope. Just like a Sneakoscope, it makes a shrill noise but only when you are near your soul mate or someone close enough to be. It chose your partners based on compatibility. The second item is an ordinary magical diviner. It chose something that it thought you might need, in much the same way a remembrall knows that you've forgotten something. That's why each spell was relevant whether it was to your group or another. They brought you together." McGonagall took a moment to breathe.

The class stared at the last item which was some sort of beetle. Hermione shrieked. "That's a lovebug, even muggles know about them."

"Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger. It would only select couples for their assessment if they had already fallen in love and they both knew of it."

"What?" yelled Pansy. "Are you telling me you were matchmaking us from the start? That's horrible, that's ridiculous, that's..."

Professor McGonagall interrupted her. "That's how you were born."

There was a resounding silence.

With a little shake of her head, Minerva continued. "Potter, Longbottom, Bulstrode, Weasley, Malfoy, Parkinson, Zabini, Boot and Lovegood. I've used this particular lesson for my entire tenure at Hogwarts and none of you would have existed if your parents did not take my class."

There was another long pause.

"That's the most brilliantly manipulative idea I've ever heard," announced Luna with amazement. Her inner Slytherin was more than impressed, Dean's too.

Professor McGonagall smiled at the girl, "Thank you, Miss Lovegood. Take another five points." With an un-Gryffindor-like smirk, she announced, "Professor Snape, eat your heart out!"


End file.
